


From Me to Him and Now, You

by shieldings



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Chara, Agender Frisk, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV First Person, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, the violence isn't from fighting but there is blood and such sooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldings/pseuds/shieldings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the very beginning, I was a bad kid.  I was the kind of kid who rips the legs off spiders, and says cruel things just for the sake of it, and takes things that aren't theirs.  You wouldn't get it; I know because I can feel your heart accelerating over bad jokes and your eyes tearing up over pointless stories.  If you knew what kind of a person I was, you would be clawing at your own head to try and rip me out.  So please, please, PLEASE stop being so nice to me!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Fall Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some retroactive notes for new readers!  
> (These are new as of chapter 9)  
> This is mostly a Chara character study fic, with an emphasis on their relationship with Asriel. The main focus is on the belief systems and coping mechanisms that mentally ill children can develop when they're left without proper treatment for too long. Most of the symptoms I've shown are based on research (I'm a psych person send me straight to jail) and personal experience.
> 
> The main narrative (AKA, the conversations with Frisk) takes place after the Soulless Pacifist route, with the assumption that Chara was the main instigator of violence (I actually prescribe a little more to the player-as-guilty theory, but whatever). However, this is actually a pretty soft Chara. After all, some of the biggest themes in Undertale are forgiveness and people's ability to change for the better.
> 
> There's a pretty strong chance this will wind up being a series, because I'd also like to go a little bit more into Asriel and Frisk's perspectives, and I'd like to write a little bit about the six Fallen Children (not too much, but enough).
> 
> I hope you all have as much fun reading this story as I've had writing it!

I remember climbing a mountain in shorts and a t-shirt in midwinter. I had safety-pin scratches on my arms (those were mine), a black eye (which had been given to me) and blood under my fingernails (which I had taken). Those were the things I carried.

I'd forgotten all the things I'd heard about the mountain, actually. I only remembered when I realized the people weren't chasing me anymore. It was such a relief! At this point, I couldn't be blamed if I disappeared, and that was all that mattered. See, the world was worse with me in it. I made everything I touched gross and dirty. I still do! Frisk, you can't have forgotten all the awful things I made you do! Please stop it...

I walked forever (that was lie; it was only two hours) until I forgot why I'd climbed the mountain in the first place. My legs hurt. The scabs on my knees itched and there was half-melted snow in my shoes. I figured I should sleep, and that was how I found the cave. 

It was too shallow to be a real cave (a half-assed attempt at a cave, maybe). It sucked in sunlight like one of those half-domes they set up in the park for concerts. The walls were rough and damp, like a cat's tongue (but cold). I ran my hands against them for a while, but then they got numb and it wasn't fun anymore. I saw some weird bugs, but I couldn't catch them so they weren't any fun either. I saw a hole, and I figured that there wasn't anything else left to do, so I might as well test it out.

Please understand me when I say this: I didn't want to die. I didn't want to do anything. I'd canceled out all of my people-related options when I said “no” and went for his throat. I'd climbed the mountain in an outfit that begged for hypothermia, so there wasn't much to do there either. The walls were too cold to pet anymore, I had no food, I didn't feel like going out to get any (even though my stomach hurt) and the scabs on my arms and legs itched like hell. So, please understand: I didn't want to die. I just didn't feel like being alive anymore, which is pretty different when you think about it.

Please stop making that face. I can feel you making that face, and it's annoying me. Stop, Frisk.

I didn't have the guts to jump. I tried, believe me. I think it was survival instincts, or something like that. They never helped when I NEEDED them to, but I guess they woke up when they realized I was about to finally get some damn rest.

I tried closing my eyes, but I knew what was coming so I couldn't jump then, either. Eventually, I settled on walking backwards. Running backwards, actually. I must have looked ridiculous, but I wasn't thinking about it. I ran backwards with my eyes squeezed shut and I waited and waited and THERE.

My stomach dropped and my memories blanked and there was nothing else I needed to do, gravity would take it from there. I was upside-down and right-side-up and my legs were dragging uselessly like a ragdoll, and it was funny (incredibly funny, hilarious, I felt my lungs opening up to laugh), because I saw a book like this in the public library last spring and the illustration was all floaty and delicate and for a second I wondered if I--

CRUNCH.

 

…

 

It was a while before I woke up. There was dirt in my mouth. It fell out with my last baby tooth. I tried to lift my head, but I couldn't. For a second I thought I was dead, actually. What if this was what being dead was like? What if being dead was just lying like this without being able to do anything about it, and feeling myself rot and get eaten up by grassroots until I--

I made a noise. 

I was alive! For a second I was elated (elated that I wasn't going to be this way for ever) and then I was annoyed (annoyed that I couldn't even die right). Then my chest hurt (ribcages, like in school) and I tasted all that blood, and my stupid survival instincts kicked in again, and I made another noise, one like “help” or “ouch,” maybe, and I saw a shadow from outside the reflected light from the cave.

“Are you okay? You've fallen.”


	2. I Get Picked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was gross, okay? I was absolutely _disgusting,_ and if you try to deny it, you'll embarrass yourself.

My head hurt.

“My name is Asriel.”

The rest of me hurt, too.

I didn't talk to him, actually. I could see him through half-open eyes, and I could feel his soft heavy paws lifting me up onto my feet. He made a funny noise when I collapsed. Kind of a cross between a bleat and a whimper? I'm not sure what happened next, so don't ask me. You know the rest of the story.

Stop it. Stop goading me. Don't pretend you're above all this.

I might have opened my eyes a few times. I mostly just saw the back of his sweater. I think I puked on it. He didn't even drop me or anything, he just shuddered a little and kept walking. I slowly became aware of how much everything hurt. My chest and stomach were pressed up against his back, and it was hard to breathe. I still didn't say anything. I didn't want him to drop me.

Asriel hummed to himself when he walked, but not when he got on the ferry. He talked to me when he thought I was asleep, but not so much when I moved. He said stuff like, “I hope you'll be okay,” and “I wonder if Mama will mind it if I bring you inside” and “How did you even get down here?” Every now and then he'd turn to look over his shoulder at me. I'd squeeze my eyes shut so he wouldn't put me down and try to make me walk. In retrospect, I'm not sure he bought the act.

When he finally got home, they all thought I was dead, you know. Mom and Dad, I mean. Not him. He said that I wasn't dust yet so I could be fixed. He still hadn't realized what I was (visceral and fleshy and human and gross), even after I bled and puked all over him. He cried and cried as though I was someone he'd lost, instead of something he'd found.

Something about that pissed me off.

It turns out that magic does funny stuff to human injuries. You've felt it, right? Mom healed you after you first fell down. Magic feels like warm vines and smells like cold charcoal. It sews up gashes with threads that look like fire and nudges bones back into place. It kind of tickles, but not enough to make you twitch. It doesn't replace anything, though. The trail of blood that I'd dragged behind me was still all over the Underground, instead of inside of me.

You've probably stepped where it had fallen, Frisk. You followed our path without thinking. That freaks you out, right? Think about it. That was part of me, my body, part of it all spread out and pooling and freezing in the snow and--

Stop that. I don't care.

I slept in his bed that night. They hadn't gotten a second one yet. Asriel slept on the floor, all soft and blanketed. I'd been going in and out of consciousness all day, and his mom (our Mom?) wanted to keep a close eye on me. I hadn't spoken to any of them. I hadn't even gotten a clear look at any of them. So that night, in the dark, I leaned over the side of his bed and looked at his sleeping face.

I was almost scared by how young he was. Younger than me, maybe. One of his ears had flopped over one eye, and his mouth was half-open and tiny and perfect, with tiny perfect fangs (I felt kind of jealous; fangs are cool). His breathing was soft and even, his visible eyelid fluttered in REM, and I was hypnotized by it.

He was the purest thing I'd ever seen. He reminded me of one of those angels from the paintings they hang up at food banks. The glowy ones with delicate hands and white dresses. You know which ones I'm talking about. For a second I thought about reaching down and petting his ear, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

What had he been thinking? He was all clean and fluffy and surprisingly strong, and he came from a house with spare blankets that smelled like cookies. I was gross and scabby and full of wicked thoughts, and he'd found me lying in the dirt with a bone sticking right out of my leg. What could compel someone like _him_ to reach down and scoop up someone like _me_? I was the uncutest thing possible at that moment. I'd even gotten my uncuteness all over him when I threw up and bled all over the place. So _why_ had he kept on carrying me?

Did he think he was _better_ or something? Was he some kind of paragon of virtue, a prince on a white horse? Did he think he could rescue me? Gross. I finally figured out what it was about him that made me angry. Asriel radiated innocence. He had no right to do that, so I hated him.

Funny, right? Please laugh so I'm not laughing alone; when I laugh alone, it's embarrassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't make any notes for the first chapter! Anyway, hello, everybody! I'm Shieldings, and I am charasriel trash. I'm trying to avoid getting too shippy, but I might become overwhelmed.
> 
> Is the formatting too confusing? Tell me if there's anything you don't understand, and I'll do my best to fix it! Thank you for reading this, every hit means a lot to me.  
> <3


	3. I Steal a Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wish he'd stop trying to pretend we were alike... He's just embarrassing himself at this point. He should just go back to the hand-washing skit he came from, and never, ever come back!
> 
> I mean that. Really. I wouldn't miss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's low-key fluffy. I like the idea of a sort of snarly, self-raised Chara who thinks they're a lot more grown up than they actually are.

“Why are you crying?” he asked one morning.

“I'm not crying,” I said. “I'm laughing.”

“If that's how you want it to be,” he said, staring at his feet. Paws. I was never really sure about that.

It had been a week since I'd jumped. Despite Asriel's heartfelt efforts, I hadn't told him why I'd jumped. I hadn't even told him _that_ I'd jumped. I let him assume that I'd fallen. Because he thought it wasn't my fault, he was constantly checking up on me like I was some injured baby animal, like a squirrel in a shoebox in the closet. Like a squirrel in a shoebox in a closet, I hunched up my shoulders and bared my teeth. Since they weren't fangs, it wasn't very scary, I think. 

I've gotten scarier since then, so don't pretend I stayed that way.

“Chara is a nice name,” he said during dinner. Dinner was when I took food out of the fridge without asking and hid in his room with it. He had the key, so I couldn't really stop him from joining me. He should have gotten the hint when I said I didn't want to eat with his family.

“Yeah,” I said, biting through a snail shell. They were better than they looked. “Yeah, I picked it myself.”

“Why?” He rolled a crayon between his fingers. “My dad picked my name.”

“My first name was boring. It was just, 'you!' and when people said it, everyone looked up and it was confusing.” I put the empty plate on his pillow. It had some crumbs on it, and those were good for later. “Chara is a cool name, nobody else has it.”

“My dad named me Asriel because it's his name and Mom's name smashed together. And since I'm their kid, I'm them--”

“Smashed together, yeah. I saw it on pay-per-view.” 

He looked at me like I was a legend, or something. It was nice. He looked so confused, but his eyes were all big and dark. He was such a kid. Gross. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to hug him or hit him. Either way, I wanted him to realize that I wasn't all naïve and babyish like he was. He was too squeaky-clean (like a VHS tape from the children's section of the dollar store).

“Wanna hear about it?” That would impress him, definitely. I thought for a second about the treasure trove of bad words I had stored up in the back of my mind, and I'd just opened my mouth to start explaining exactly what I saw on pay-per-view when his mom (our Mom) opened the door.

“Would you like anything else?” she asked me, looking at the empty plate. I scowled at her. “Should I at least take the plate back to wash it?”

“If I wanted you to take it I would have given it to you!” I snarled, leaning protectively over the pillow. I didn't want her handouts, and I didn't want her to take my leftovers. She nodded gravely and closed the door.

“Why do you talk to her like that?” Asriel asked. “That was really rude!”

“She was really rude,” I mumbled.

“No, she wasn't. She was being nice. It's nice to offer to do stuff for people.” He put his hands on his hips like an angry kindergarten teacher.

“You say. I think it's nice to leave people alone.”

“Fine! I get the hint!” With a frustrated bleat, he stomped out of the room. I took the crayon he'd left on the ground and put it in my pocket. It was a nice color.

Don't you cluck at me! I was behaving perfectly normally! It's not my fault I'm not some kind of sparkly cartoon character!

…That's not funny, Frisk. Just let me keep going, stop trying to talk to me about it. You asked, so I'm answering. You're not the one telling the story here.

Anyway, when Asriel left I wrote “fuck” and “ass” and I drew a frowny face on the foot of his bed with the crayon, and then I felt better so I went to sleep. That's all. I didn't feel bad about anything I said, if you're wondering. And I laughed a lot when Asriel asked Dad what a fuck was. See, Dad didn't know, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody needs to give Asgore the Talk.


	4. I Steal More Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget I was the one who ruined everything. I was lying. I like to lie, it's fun. I like hurting people. They make funny faces when they cry.
> 
> ...Stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed tags from gender-neutral to agender, because now Chara's gender (or lack thereof) is more of an issue  
> I kind of headcanon Chara as being someone with a very unstable sense of identity.  
> The gendered names are part of it. Even though Chara is genderless, they let these sort sof fake semi-selves overlay them (pre-underground, of course).
> 
> Also, I've been thinking a lot about the way we tend to treat Frisk and Chara as blank slates (but especially Chara, because they're the one that we name). This sort of projection gets really creepy really fast once you start thinking of the characters as more than just player avatars.
> 
> I hope this makes sense!

Asriel asked me about my name again when they moved a second bed into his room. He'd decided to write my name on all my new stuff (the bed, a stuffed fox, a pair of yellow rainboots, and a striped sweater to match his).

“So we don't mix our stuff up,” he explained. I nodded, but I didn't think labels would make any difference. If I was cold, I wouldn't be paying attention to the name on the tag. He stuck his tongue out a little when he wrote.

“How do you spell 'Chara' anyway?” he asked.

“With a 'ch' like in 'mechanical.'”

“Did you really pick it for yourself?”

“I didn't have a name before this one.”

“I don't believe you.” He finished labeling the rain boots and turned to face me with his ears flopping over his shoulders. “You must have had some kind of name.”

The truth was, I had had a name. I'd had plenty of names, actually. I'd just forgotten what the first one was, and that was too embarrassing to explain.

“Last summer, I was Henry,” I said.

“Henry is an okay name,” he said. “Why did you change it?”

“I'm not finished. In spring, I was Delilah, and when I lived by the ocean, everybody called me Sam. When I lived under the bridge, the old man called me Rachel after his sister, and I told the woman from the foster home that my name was Jim.”

How many have I had? I forgot. It's none of your business anyway, Frisk. I don't ask you whether or not Frisk was the first name you've had, so you shouldn't be bothering me. I don't even like names. Whenever I had a name, it was because somebody wanted something from me, and I don't have anything worthwhile to give. I only chose Chara because I wanted something to call myself, not because I wanted something to be called.

“I don't understand,” Asriel said.

“You don't have to,” I replied. “The only name I want is the one I have right now.”

He didn't bother me about it again after that.  
–  
Frisk, can I ask you a stupid question? Don't say “yes” because you feel like you have to.

Have you ever felt like you don't want to be anybody at all? Not in a “I want to die” kind of way. See, up until I jumped, I'd been trying my damnedest to stop existing. I never stuck with a name for more than a couple of months, and I never stuck with a place for more than a couple of weeks if I could help it.

But for some reason, people kept on paying attention to me. No matter what I did to erase my past and fog up my present, adults kept on nosing their way in and trying to make me real again. Whenever people asked me about my past, I'd either come up with some bullshit lie or just say, “I don't remember.” I think something about that excited them.

Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't become nothing. Jim, the shriveled-up man from under the bridge, called me “Rachel.” I wound up staying with him for almost a year. He had such a complete idea of who I was, more complete than any that I'd ever had.

To him, I was Rachel. I was a girl, to him, and I didn't bother to tell him otherwise. Rachel loved cats, her favorite color was blue, and she'd grown up with him way back before the war. Rachel was clever and gentle and always looked after her younger brother, even as he slipped in and out of dementia. Rachel had cried when the war started, and cried when it ended, and just cried and cried until she was just a blue puddle, probably. I never told him I wasn't Rachel, because she was a complete person.

I'm not sure if the real Rachel is around anymore, but if she is, I bet she wouldn't like how I lied to her brother. She also probably wouldn't like how he was carried away when the river flooded and I didn't try to swim after him or anything. I just shrugged and walked off.

When some cops caught me and dumped me off at the children's shelter, I told everybody that my name was Jim. They believed me! I let a man drown and I left with his name! Is it just me, or is that the funniest thing ever? 

So, anyway, Asriel was way too nosy. Even he never heard that story, Frisk! Because if he heard it, he'd be afraid I was going to steal his name the same way I stole his clothes and his food and his space, right? And he'd be right to be scared! I mean, if the whole thing with the buttercups never happened, I'd have probably found some other way to screw him over. That's what I do, Frisk. I mean, I stole _you_ , right? You were a perfectly harmless kid, and then I wriggled in and I messed you up.

You can't cover your ears and ignore me. I'm in here. You can try to pretend that I was an okay person, but you know that I'm the reason you have those weird dreams, and I'm the person who whispers gross, violent things to you when you're alone, and I'm the one who--

That's fine. Go ahead, pretend you aren't listening. Just remember that I'm a demon. I'm whoever I want to be, and what I want to be is terrible. And no matter how nice people are to me, and no matter how much you want me to be something else, I'll always be a demon.

…

Just leave me alone. Can't you tell I'm mad at you?

God, I hate you.


	5. I Make a Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, he still smiled at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's more of a relationship-development type chapter.  
> Less Chara & Frisk, more Chara & Asriel
> 
> dont look at me

I was sitting on the floor eating some kind of stew. Asriel was sitting across from me coloring. Most of my scabs had fallen off at this point, and I was beginning to feel pretty comfortable with my living situation. All the same, an irritating little thought kept bouncing around in the back of my head.

_How long until I'm supposed to leave?_

I didn't belong in the Underground. I was a trespasser. No matter how welcoming everybody was, I was still a human, and humans were supposed to be above ground. When I looked in the mirror, I was a lot less scrawny than I'd been, and my leg was as good as new (save for a cool scar). Mom and Dad weren't obligated to keep me anymore.

I didn't like that.

“Are you okay?” Asriel looked up at me. I realized that I'd been just staring at my half-empty stew bowl.

“I was thinking about space,” I said.

“Neat.” Asriel nodded approvingly.

I shoveled down the rest of my stew, even though I wasn't all that hungry, and I hid the bowl under my bed. As usual, Mom came in and asked how we were doing. I didn't snarl at her this time. I even gave her back the plate from the day before, which was pretty generous, I think. She smiled at me with her big fanged mouth and her dark droopy eyes, but I was certain she couldn't wait to be rid of me.

After I got kicked out of Asriel's house, I'd probably have to find my way aboveground. That might take a while. I started to think about what name I'd use next, and what sort of lies I'd tell people about myself. Maybe I'd say my name was Toriel. I liked her, even though she kept taking my plates and wanted me gone.

It would suck to get used to skipping meals again. And I probably wouldn't be able to handle human food for a while either. Monster food doesn't need to be digested. It's just absorbed right into you and you don't even need to shit it out or anything. My intestinal flora were getting lazy (or maybe just dead). I commended myself for knowing about intestinal flora.

–

“Do you want to see something cool?” Asriel leaned over and woke me up from a nap one cold afternoon. His ears smacked me in the face. I didn't mind.

“Is it worth getting up over?” I asked.

“You like space, right? You were thinking about it a lot.” Asriel's eyes were sparkling. I nodded, trying to remember the last time I'd really considered my place in the cosmos (I hadn't. Too big, not enough energy). “I realized that you probably miss being able to see it!”

“I don't miss it,” I grumbled. “It's always too cloudy to see the stars anyway.”

“Well, this should be a treat then!” He grabbed my hand with a big furry paw, dragged me out of bed, and stared at me expectantly until I pulled on a sweater (his) and my yellow boots (mine, of course).

It was my first time out of the castle since I'd been taken there. I didn't recognize the path (because I was full of vomit and blood the first time around), but Asriel plodded confidently forward, pointing at his favorite rocks and waving to civilians (furry, scaly, and other). I tried to look inconspicuous. He held my hand tightly the whole way through.

My scarred leg was beginning to hurt when he finally ( _finally _)__ stopped walking.

“This is it!” he smiled, waving his arm to signify the wet, cold, unpleasant cave he'd dragged me into. “Isn't it amazing?”

I was up to my ankles in water, I'd had to wave back to several civilians, and I hadn't gotten to finish my nap. It didn't seem too amazing to me. I'd been cold and wet before. It wasn't a new sensation.

“It's a cave. Why are you so excited about a cave?”

“Look up.”

Glowing blue gems were splattered across the ceiling like stars in an old painting. There must have been hundreds, no, millions of them, even if I only counted the ones in my line of vision. They were all different shapes and sizes, they reflected each other, they chased one another in constellations and galaxies (blue as the daytime sky, shining through holes in the nighttime sky).

“Why?” was all I could say.

“Do you wanna make a wish?” Asriel asked.

“I do,” I said, stupidly, breathlessly.

“Okay.” Asriel closed his eyes and solemnly tilted his head backwards. “I wish that--”

“You can't say it, stupid!” I interrupted. “If you say it, it won't come true!”

“Really? Where'd you hear that?” His big eyes opened and sparkled at me again. Gross.

“Jim,” I answered. “And the Public Broadcasting Service.”

“It must be a human thing. We'll do it your way.” Once again, he closed his eyes and leaned back. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

I closed my eyes, tilted my head back solemnly. I took a deep breath of the cold, damp air.

_"I wish that Asriel's family doesn't kick me out. I wish to keep this name. I wish--"_

“Do you want to see an echo flower?” He grabbed my hand again.

“...Yeah.”

I squeezed his paw, and that was when I became determined to stay with him.


	6. I Get in Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm jealous, petty, and manipulative. And I'm proud of it. And also, "Azzy" isn't a good nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for self-injury in this chapter. It's kind of a weird circumstance, but self-injury is self-injury.

I counted my leftover plates. Wednesday's pie crust (still good), half a peanut-butter sandwich from Tuesday (stale, but serviceable) and yesterday's baked potato (would get gross if I didn't finish it fast). I knew deep down that I didn't _need_ to hoard my leftovers, but it made me feel secure. I liked having backup.

 

I carefully slid my plates into their respective hiding places (in the closet, under the toybox, under Asriel's bed) and sighed. Still there. Of course none of the family would have stolen from me, and even if they did, it was their stuff originally anyway.

 

In my head, I'd started to call Toriel and Asgore “Mom and Dad.” I didn't call them that out loud, of course. I called them “Lady” and “Mister,” and sometimes “Leave Me Alone Go Fuck Yourself” (but that was only on bad days). Asriel had deduced that “fuck” wasn't a nice word, and so he'd started scolding me every time he heard it.

 

This one time, he brought another kid over (from school, he told me later). The kid was all purple and spoke with a lisp and had weird little lizard hands. He brought her into the kitchen and I was sitting on the counter and I made a noise and she made a noise and I fell off and scampered out like a wild animal and she said, “Golly.”

 

Later on, when she thought they were alone in the living room, I heard her asking why he kept a human in his house. He kind of mumbled an answer. She asked how his dad felt about it. He just shrugged. She asked if I was bad (humans are bad). Asriel laughed and said “no.” She said, “how are you so sure?” and I decided I didn't like her.

 

What? That's a stupid question. Humans _are_ bad, it's just that it was none of her business. She was rude.

 

Asriel left for our room to get a hat. I sidled out from behind the armchair. She squeaked.

 

“Do you think I'm bad?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

 

“N- no,” she said, twiddling her lizard thumbs. “I don't think... What was your name?”

 

“How are you so sure I'm not bad?” I smiled. She shuddered.

 

“Azzy likes you, and he's pretty good with people, so...” Azzy. She called him _Azzy_? Even I didn't call him by a nickname. I slept in his room, for goodness sakes! Who gave her the right? Did everybody at school call him Azzy? Was I misinformed?

 

“Asriel... _Azzy_ doesn't know about what I did before I came down here,” I said slowly. I kept smiling. I took a step toward her. She took a step backwards, and tripped. “He doesn't know about what I did to--”

 

Asriel bounced back into the room, hat equipped.

 

“Howdy, Chara! What are you two up to..?” He slowly registered the scene. I was looming over his friend, smiling at her with all 31 (the last one wasn't done yet) of my shiny human teeth. She was sprawled out over the floor in shock. Her bare forearm had changed color to blend in with the hardwood.

 

I immediately felt the shame of what I'd done boiling in my stomach. I turned around, marched into the kitchen, and hid under the counter until I couldn't hear either of their voices.

 

–

Dad knocked on the countertop with his big hairy grownup paw. I crawled out, shamefaced. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He seemed at a loss for words. He coughed into his fist. He looked at the ceiling. I figured I should probably talk first.

 

“It was her fault,” I said.

 

“It doesn't matter whose fault it was.” He seemed relieved that I'd started the conversation (good job, Chara! You can punish yourself!). “What you did was wrong.”

 

“She didn't like me,” I protested. “She looked at me funny.”

 

“She was a guest in this house,” he said sternly. “And we do not terrorize our guests, no matter how they look at us.”

 

Uh-oh. I could see where this was going. _If you can't abide by our rules, you'd better leave._ I'd given him an excuse to kick me out. I had to cover my ass.

 

“She said a bad word,” I said. Damn it. I could have come up with a better lie if I'd had more time. “I was saying I'd... tell you?” He'd like that. Adults liked that, right? Formal adults, anyway. Other adults didn't, they didn't like that at all. My mind was all over the place.

 

Dad looked at me quizzically. “You're shaking,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” I answered. “I got dripped on under the counter. By the pipes.” The pipes were fine.

 

“You can't get away with lies in this house, Chara,” he said.

 

“Nope,” I answered, and I ducked under his arm, out of the kitchen, through the living room and over Asriel, who had been lying on his stomach coloring, and into our room. I slammed the door shut and locked it.

 

I was in deep shit. I had to do something, fast, or else they'd kick me out before nightfall. I didn't want that. I couldn't let that happen. What could I do? I probably couldn't figure out how to get them to forgive me. I wasn't good at that kind of thing, I didn't know what sorts of things people wanted to hear or what faces I should make. Why did they even let me sleep here? Why did they even take me in in the first place--

 

Oh. There it was. My solution. The reason it was possible for Asriel's family to get rid of me was because I wasn't hurt anymore. They would have to keep me if I was hurt. The question was, how would I hurt myself? I couldn't leave the room before it was over, of course. If I left, they'd probably just pick me up and toss me out without even saying, “later, Chara!” And the injury had to be bad. Bad enough to nag their consciences (“You can't just toss this kid out in the cold! With that grotesque wound, they'll probably _die_!”) until they caved.

 

I searched the room for a means. There wasn't anything sharp to be found. Asriel was all soft edges and plush toys. I considered jabbing myself in the leg with a pencil, but that probably wouldn't be enough. Finally, I settled on the wardrobe. It was huge, imposing, and heavy.

 

It was almost too heavy to prop up, but I did it. I used a stack of old books to raise one of its feet high enough for it to tilt uneasily to the left. I knelt on the ground, and positioned my scarred right leg under its raised foot. I twisted awkwardly to the side and knocked over the stack of books.

 

It was a bad idea. How could I have forgotten how much having a broken leg _hurt_? I heard the bone splintering and I felt sick to the stomach and it was throbbing and I didn't know whether or not it was bleeding and I didn't want to look and Mom had heard the crash and Asriel unlocked the door and--

 

I was going to be staying a little longer. Beyond the throbbing pain, I felt a wave of triumph sweep over me. Asriel was crying, maybe, and Dad looked so startled and confused, and Mom picked me up in her big furry arms and _my plan had worked_.

 

What is that face you're making? Are you grossed out? I didn't go into detail or anything. Are you grossed out by how manipulative I am? I feel the same way!

 

...No, you don't feel sorry for me. That's stupid. I messed up a bunch of expensive books and I scuffed up Asriel's bedroom floor and I terrorized some purple girl because I was _jealous that she had a nickname for my friend and I didn't._

 

I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure those are all signs of being a lousy person. So stop being so condescending and scoff at me for once!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chameleon girl wrote an essay about what happened and got a B+.  
> Asriel wrote an essay about what happened and got a C, because he kept on switching tenses.  
> Chara won't admit it, but they're just mad that they didn't come up with "Azzy" first. 
> 
> (also I forgot that the wardrobe doesn't have feet so just imagine it does OTL)


	7. I Do My Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are evil. I'd always known that, but it took me a while to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not posting in a while! My laptop broke, and I haven't had much access to computers lately! Also, a new semester just started so I'd better get my ass to class so I don't get in trouble or something

“I don't believe you,” he said. His ears flopped when he shook his head. “I think you did it on purpose.”

“That's silly,” I answered, fidgeting under the blankets. “Why would anybody break their own leg?”

“I don't know why, but the wardrobe's never fallen over before.” Asriel gave me The Look. “Why would someone break their own leg?”

“I'm hungry. Get me some cake.”

“Not until you tell me why.”

I sighed extravagantly and propped myself up on my elbows. “I like loud noises. I knocked the wardrobe over because I wanted to hear it crash. Are you happy?”

“...No.” All the same, he brought me my cake. It didn't taste as good as I'd hoped it would.

–

“What's your school like?” I asked one lazy morning as he packed his books.

“...Like a school, I guess,” he answered. “A bunch of kids sit in a room while an old lady talks about history and stuff. Do humans have those?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, slightly disappointed at how normal it sounded. “What grade are you in?”

“What's a grade?” He tilted his head. His ears flopped. I wanted to tug them.

“Like, how long have you been going? How old are the kids in your class?”

“I--” He looked genuinely distressed. “I don't know... They're kids! We're kids! We go to school!” He pointed at his striped sweater and blinked at me hopefully. Then Mom called, and he stumbled down the hall and out the door.

Now I know that monsters age differently from humans, so they all get lumped together in groups based on experience and whatnot. But when Asriel left for class that morning, I was just confused and annoyed.

I heaved myself out of bed, wincing when I landed on my wrapped-up leg. I hobbled pathetically into the living room. I looked out the window. He'd long since left. Dad was in the garden, and Mom was off doing the political paperwork he'd abandoned so he could be in the garden. There was no TV in the house (damn hipster goat family) and I wasn't hungry, so the only thing I could do was read.

Mom and Dad have a lot of history books, you know. Most of them were too heavy for me to bother with, but a couple of them were light enough to carry. One of them had some cool swords on the cover, so that was the one I read first.

You didn't finish those books, right, Frisk? I know you aren't great with those big blocks of text. I guess you still know how the war went, but Mom was the one who taught you, and she didn't want to scare you. But me, I had nothing else to do. I read that first history book cover to cover.

Wanna hear something funny? Humans are garbage! The war lasted three months. The monsters already lived near the mountain, and they weren’t expecting to be attacked. The humans had been planning the attack for a whole year before they started, and it went perfectly. The monsters didn’t even have half a chance. Monsters are mostly magic, so their bodies couldn’t handle being stabbed and burned and thrown around the way ours can.

Mom and Dad were around for it. There are pictures of them, all stern and armored. They’re surrounded by mountains of dust, enough for a desert. There were a lot more monsters before the war. I don’t know how many died, but there are a lot of boss monsters in that book. Asriel and his family are the only ones I’ve ever met. I think the humans got the rest of them. Stabbed the shit out of them until there was nothing left.

Sealing the survivors underground was an afterthought. There weren’t enough of them left to pose any kind of real threat! The humans left enough of them to mourn, and then they locked them up to be alone with their thoughts. If that isn’t evil, I don’t know what is.

Before I jumped, people had screwed me over plenty of times. They always wanted something, and I didn’t have anything to give. For a while, I shrugged it off. I mean, no matter how many rotten people you meet, there are always a couple of nice ones, right? I mean, the guy from behind the grocery store stole my money and threw me under a bridge, but that was how I met Jim (and he was pretty okay, even though he thought we were related). And even when things were at their worst, I could always function alone.

When I was alone, it was fine for humans to be evil. I knew how to handle bad people. I could run away from them or claw at their throats or steal their bagged lunches when they weren’t looking. They’d have to give up and be evil at people who weren’t me, right? I didn’t care if some stranger got knocked over the head or pushed into a lake or catcalled by an old man in a McDonalds. That was the stranger’s problem.

Now though, I had people I cared about. Mom and Dad were good, plain and simple, and the idea of evil people throwing spears at them or killing their friends or sealing them underground or any of that stuff made me sick. The descendants of the people who’d done those things were walking around on the surface as though they’d done nothing wrong, enjoying sunlight and changing weather and all kinds of everyday surface things. Mom and Dad and Asriel, who’d done nothing wrong, were stuck in a cave with a bunch of snails.

It was a nice cave, and they liked snails, but to me, that was unacceptable.


	8. I Tell Some Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't mind lying, generally.
> 
> It's not always that fun, but I do what I need to.
> 
> All the same, I don't like seeing him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the beginning, this chapter is surprisingly upbeat.

You know what dying feels like, right?

 

…Yeah, I know.  I shouldn’t talk about that kind of thing right now.  You don’t like to think about it.  Because you’re a wimp.  Can’t handle it.

 

…Anyway, my leg was starting to fix itself again.  I’d comfortably situated myself into the household, and I started to think about the next thing I should do to avoid getting kicked out.  Another big injury would be suspicious.  I bought time by limping everywhere and saying, “ouch” every now and then.  All the same, I couldn’t keep up my act forever.  Finally, Asriel caught on.

 

 “Your leg should be better by now,” he said as I hauled myself melodramatically out of bed one morning.  “Maybe Mom should check it again.”

 

“No,” I said.  “I think it’s infected.  If she touches it she’ll get sick.”

 

“I don’t think that’s how infections work…  Do you want me to look at it?”

 

“Only if you want to puke yourself to death,” I answered.  “That’s how things happen with humans.  Doctors die by the truckload up on the surface.”

 

“I think you’re lying,” he said.  He looked uncertain.

 

“I knew a guy once, and he broke his leg, and he went into a restaurant, and everyone in there just flopped over and died.”  I made a gesture with my hand to indicate death-by-flopping-over.

 

“You’re lying,” he said again.  This time, he looked pretty confident.  “I want to take a look at your leg.”  He took a step toward me.  “I’m not gonna touch it or anything, but if it’s infected we should probably tell Mom.”

 

“You can’t,” I said, trying my best to look honest.  “If you uncover it it’ll get more infected!”  I crawled back into bed and hid under the covers.  “You can’t even look at the bandages!  You’ll make it worse!”

 

There was a moment of silence. 

 

“It’s not really broken, is it?” he asked.  I considered coming up with a better lie.  I weighed out my options.  Maybe I’d tell him that humans couldn’t heal the same limb twice.  I was doomed to be forever in a cast, limping around miserably and getting doted on by Asriel and his family.  Such was my tragic fate.

 

“It’s been better for a while,” I said stupidly.

 

“Why would you lie about that?” he asked as he slumped to the floor by my bedside.  His eyebrows were furrowed.  He looked so serious that I almost wanted to laugh.  “Was it because you wanted extra servings of pie?  Because I would have—“

 

“I lied because I wanted to,” I said.  “I like lying.  It’s fun.”

 

“That isn’t it.”  He shook his head immediately.  He was getting more perceptive.  “What am I going to tell Mama and Dad?  Since I know you’re faking, I can’t just let you keep on tricking them.”

 

“Yes, you can!” I said.  “You _can_ let me keep on tricking them!  Just—maybe you can tell them that it’s infected?  And they’ll die if they touch it?  I don’t know, but you don’t have to tell on me!”

 

I stared at him hopefully.  I leaned over the side of the bed so our noses were almost touching.

 

“You can keep a secret, right?” I asked.  “Because it’s only one secret, and it’s really important that I--”

 

“No!” He shook his head again, squeezed his eyes shut.  “I won’t!  Why do you keep _doing_ this kind of thing!?”

 

“What kind of thing?”  I straightened my back.  He sounded angry.  Would I have to run?  Could I run in a cast?

 

“You lie so much…”  His eyes were welling up.  “You lie about stupid things, all the time.  I don’t know what you get out of this…  Do you hate us?  Is that it?”  His nose was running.  “Because if you hate us, you could at least be honest about it.  Stop acting like we’re…  _I’m_ so stupid that I can’t tell when you’re messing with me.  I like you, a lot, but I can’t let you treat me like this anymore!”

 

“Of course I don’t hate you, dummy.”  I hesitantly put my hand on his shoulder.  It was shaking.  Maybe I shouldn’t have said he was a dummy.  “If I hated you, why would I have stayed here this long?”

 

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes at me.

 

“If I hated you, I would have left when my leg got better.  I would have just taken your food and your sweater and just walked right out.”

 

“Walked where?”

 

I shrugged.  “Just out, I guess.  Back aboveground.”

 

“You can’t do that.  The Barrier wouldn’t let you.”  He kept giving me that suspicious look. 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?  I got in, right?”  He opened his mouth again, but I shook my head.  I wasn’t in the mood for an explanation.  “What I’m saying is, I lied _because_ I don’t hate you.  I broke my leg again because I wanted to stay with you.”

 

“I still don’t understand…”  He reached up and laced his fingers through mine.  “Why would breaking your leg help you stay?”

 

“I—I don’t know,” I stuttered.  The answer was stupid.  It was too stupid for me to say out loud.  He looked at me with those big expectant goat eyes.  I took a deep breath.  “I broke my leg so you would keep me.  If I had a broken leg, your family wouldn’t kick me out.”

 

His mouth dropped open.  “Was that it?” he asked.  “You thought were going to kick you out?”

 

“Why not?  I mean, I’ve been sleeping in your room and eating your food and wearing your clothes and all.  I’m a moocher.  If I were you, I’d want me _out_.”

 

“We bought you a bed,” he said.  “I’ve been sharing my clothes with you.  Mom makes an extra serving of dinner every night.”

 

“Yeah, and I…”

 

“We’ve wanted to keep you from the start.  We bought you a _BED_ , for gosh sakes!”  He smiled, then he snorted, then he started laughing.  I turned beet red.

 

“I couldn’t have known that,” I muttered.

 

“Chara, we want you here,” he said, looking into my eyes.  “You don’t have to lie to make us love you.”

 

“L- love me?  That’s stupid!  You’re stupid!”  I must have looked ridiculous, but I started smiling too.  Before I knew it, I’d wrapped my arms around him and squeezed so tightly it must have been uncomfortable.

 

“If anything is bothering you,” he said softly into my ear, “Just tell me.  Even if you’re nervous, please don’t lie to me anymore.”

 

I nodded.  I kept that promise.  I can’t remember telling Asriel another lie for the rest of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bury me in the garbage for 2000 years. Then pour some more garbage in to keep me from escaping and enacting my trash curse


	9. I Am Emotionally Well-Adjusted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Frisk, if they sent you to a shrink, he'd get pretty freaked out, right?
> 
> I'm a voice that lives in your head and tells you to hit people! That's exactly what shrinks hate! Right? I think that's how it works...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toriel is trying her best.
> 
> Also, since I keep on having to change computers (I haven't gotten replacement laptop yet), sometimes the formatting comes off a little different between chapters. I'm trying my best to fix that. ^^"

I started wondering why I wasn’t in school.  When I asked Mom about it, she got all flustered and wouldn’t meet my eyes.  I pressed her until she caved.  Finally, she sighed defeatedly and sat down.

 

“My child, we are not sure if you’re ready.”

 

What did she mean by that?  I’d been to school before.  I mean, not consistently, but I’d been to kindergarten and third grade and one time I got mixed up with a bunch of other kids and went on a field trip by accident.  That seemed like evidence that I was ready.  I opened my mouth to protest, but she beat me to it.

 

“Monster schools are different from human schools, Chara.  They teach different things at different levels.  Also, many of the students have never even seen a human before.”

 

“Well, I can be the first one, then!”  The idea of getting up early and going to class and being bossed around by some strange adult wasn’t much fun, but I was getting tired of being cooped up all day.  My leg wasn’t wrapped up anymore, and I wasn’t planning on breaking it again, so why couldn’t I start leaving the house more?

 

“They do not know what you’re like.  They might not take kindly to having a human in their class.”

 

“If you’re worried they’ll push me around, I can take care of myself.  Back on the surface, I got into fights all the time.”  I grinned and punched the palm of my hand for emphasis.  She cringed.  I remembered how mad Dad got when I scared that purple kid, and I regretted my words.

 

“I’m sure that you can,” she said, smiling uneasily.  “But school can be very stressful.  Asgore and I are not sure if it would be wise to send you out as you are.”

 

“As I am?”  What the hell did that mean?  I was fine.  I mean, I was kind of a shitty person, but that didn’t seem like a reason to keep me locked up.

 

“I hope that you do not take this as an insult, but Asgore and I are considering waiting a year before sending you to school.  We have spoken with the teachers about this, and they’ve agreed that it would be best to give you some time to adjust emotionally to…”

 

Adjust?  _Emotionally_?  What, did she think I was scared of textbooks or something?

 

“Of course, if you are willing, you could start attending school as a part-time student.”  I perked up, but she still looked uneasy.  “The only condition would be that…” 

 

“That what?”  This couldn’t be good.  She cleared her throat and adjusted her reading glasses.  I shuffled my feet on the rug.

 

“You would have to attend weekly talk therapy sessions.  I know that you--” nOPE  NOPE NOPE NOPE. 

 

“On second thought, I have to take a leak,” I said, smiling sweetly, forgetting that the house didn’t have a bathroom and the water down here didn’t act like water.  I powerwalked out of the room, down the hall, into Asriel.

 

“Howdy,” he said as he picked himself up off the floor.  “How’s your day been going?”

 

“Room,” I said, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him behind me.

 

We sat down on the floor in front of the wardrobe.  He kept on looking from side to side and chewing on his lip.  Once again, I was a little jealous of his fangs. 

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, annoyingly innocent.

 

“Your mom thinks I’m crazy,” I said.

 

“No,” he said.  He fidgeted with a loose string at the hem of his shirt.

 

“Yes,” I said.  “Yes, she does.  Tell me everything you know about shrinks down here.”

 

He squeaked.  “What’s a shrink?”  Useless.  I sighed.

 

“It’s not a big deal.  I wanted to go to school, and she said no.  That’s all.  The end.”  Apparently, it was not the end, because Asriel straightened up like an excited puppy.

 

“Why not?”  He leaned forward.  “It would be really fun to go to school with you!  We could eat lunch together, and I’d introduce you to all my teachers, and we could work on group projects!”  None of that sounded fun.

                                                               

“She doesn’t think I’m _emotionally well-adjusted_.  Like, I think she wants to put me on happy pills or something.”

 

“What’s a happy pill?”

 

“Forget it.  Basically, she thinks I’ll misbehave if I go to school.  Yell at the teachers and steal people’s lunch money and stuff.”

 

“That—that doesn’t sound like you,” Asriel said, twiddling his thumbs.  “Not at all.”

 

“It sounds exactly like me, and you know it.”

 

“I know it.”  He hung his floppy-eared head in shame.  “But, doesn’t that just mean we need to prove that you _won’t_ do that stuff, and she’ll let you go?”

 

“Holy crap.  You’re right!”  Why didn’t I think of that?  That was ridiculously simple!  “How do we prove it?”

 

“I’ll take you to school with me tomorrow, and you’ll act normal, and then they’ll get it!”  He bounced a little in idiotic enthusiasm.  I just stared at him.

 

“How.”  He stopped bouncing.  “That plan makes no sense.”

 

“It does too make sense!”  He pouted.  “We were talking about humans in science class.  I wrote a paper.  I’ll bring you along for a demonstration.  This one time, a guy brought in a whole bag of snails, and he got an A+.”  The image of Asriel, hauling me along in an oversized backpack, flashed in my mind.  I snorted.

 

“That might work.”  I nodded thoughtfully.  The backpack looked fun.  However, Asriel’s face fell.

 

“I wonder if Mama and Dad will be okay with it?” It was more of a statement than a question.  “I mean, if they don’t want you going to school as a student, maybe they won’t want you going as a science project, either.”

 

“We don’t tell ‘em.”  I patted his shoulder.  He smiled shakily.

 

“You’re a lot cooler than a bag of snails,” he said.

 

It was pretty flattering, coming from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans ensue


	10. I Eat Asriel's Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a relentless bully. When I want to, I can make people scream and cry and beg without even threatening them. I use that power to get what I want. You couldn't scare people if you tried, Frisk. At least that's something I can hold over you, right?
> 
> Anyway, I really, really hate that purple girl. So nosy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Bad shenanigans.

His classroom was surprisingly small, and disappointingly normal. There were about fifteen kids, all of them wearing stripes in some way or another. Scaly Purple Hell Girl was in the row behind us, and at least three of the other kids were dogs. Not, like, dog-people. Just dogs. I tried to keep a low profile, but when there are so few people in a room, they notice the anomaly. The teacher was an orb with a smiley face drawn on, and she would _not shut up_. As soon as she spotted me, she called me and Asriel up to the front of the room.

 

“It seems that Asriel has brought a friend today,” she said in her disembodied orb voice. “Could this be the human friend you’ve been speaking so much of?” She floated up to me. I resisted the urge to bat her away like a balloon.

 

“Yes,” Asriel said solemnly. “This is Chara, and they’re my science project.”

 

A murmur went through the classroom. I spotted that Ugly Lizard Face whispering something into someone’s ear. I hated Ugly Lizard Face. I tried to make eye contact with her, but she was looking at her friend.

 

The teacher said that presentations weren’t until third period. Asriel and I sat quietly near the back of the room. I was on my best behavior. I didn’t even pull Purple Girl’s tail when it thwapped me in the face.

 

Hey, do you think if I pulled her tail, it would have come off? Would they have let me keep it? What do you do with a tail, anyway?

 

“…Only becomes solid upon contact with air…”

 

I nudged him. He squeaked. I asked if Ms. Orb had eyes. He shook his head.

 

“…In 200x, the war ended abruptly when…”

 

I was hungry. I stuck my hand into Asriel’s backpack and felt around for a sandwich.

 

“…The ruins proved too small to hold our population, so…”

 

I took a bite out of the sandwich. Snails, in-shell.

 

“…New Home.”

 

I finished the sandwich. Snails were starting to grow on me.

 

During his lunch break, Asriel had to eat the sandwich I'd made that morning, which was mostly chocolate sauce. He didn't say a word about it. Purple Girl was looking at me again. I made myself scarce, because I _knew_ that if she kept this up, I'd have to fight her, and if I fought her, I was going to be cooped up all day. By “made myself scarce,” I mean I hid under a table.

 

I inspected some floor stains. They were okay, but not really worth my time. I inspected Asriel's paws. They had little claws and were annoyingly cute. I inspected some graffiti (“orbs are no good”). I made some graffiti (“fuck poop assbutt,” devil face). It was all pretty boring.

 

“Hey, Asriel,” somebody said. There was a flapping noise as he settled down on the bench next to him. “Why is your dad letting you keep a human in the house?”

 

“'Cause I like them.”

 

“Yeah, but what about the Barrier?” Barrier talk again. I knew that the barrier had been created by some magicians to keep the monsters underground, but I didn't know why people kept bringing it up. I'd figured that humans could pass through whenever, since I'd fallen through it in the first place.

 

“What about the Barrier?” Asriel sounded nervous. I fought the urge to reach up and pull whoever was talking to him down with me like some kind of terrifying table-shark.

 

“You know, the Barrier. Human souls. He's got a human right there. Why isn't he killing it?” Because he wanted to keep me. Because he bought me a _bed_ , duh. That was what Asriel had said, and he was honest, so it had to be true. Maybe.

 

“Dad says killing is wrong.”

 

“He didn't think that when he fought in the war.” Oh. Yeah. Dad _had_ probably killed people before. Mom, too, come to think of it. I wasn't quite sure what to make of this. “Anyway, just one will let him pass through, and then he can go up and--”

 

“I need to leave.” Asriel stood up abruptly and scrambled over the bench. I heard his feet pattering as he left the room. As soon as I heard the door closing, I made my move. I grabbed the other kid's tiny furry ankle and pulled him under the table with me. Like a shark. He spluttered at me.

 

“Tell me all you know about the Barrier,” I said to him.

 

“Why do you care?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

 

“I like learning new things,” I said, smiling. His compound eyes widened. I saw my leer reflected in them a hundred different ways.

 

“The Barrier was formed by seven magicians in 200x in order to seal monsterkind underground--” He squeezed his eyes shut and recited it like a passage from a textbook.

 

“I already know that stuff! Tell me about the killing part!” He flinched at “killing.”

 

“...Because SOULs are magic. And there were seven magicians...” He started sniffling. I started feeling guilty. I kept smiling at him. “The king needs seven human SOULs to break the Barrier and let us aboveground again. You don't have to be one of them! I wasn't saying that he should kill you, I--”

 

Purple Garbage Face stuck her purple garbage face under the table. She gasped. She called Ms. Orb. Ms. Orb called Mom. Asriel got sent to the office, and I got sent home.

 

I didn't care. I'd learned something new that day, and that was what people went to school for, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Substory: Bugboy goes to therapy. Purple Chameleon Girl writes another essay. Asriel gets in trouble for not having his presentation ready.
> 
> As a note, I am now equipped with a laptop and a word processor, so I'm at my full power once again! And damn, it feels great.


	11. I Make a Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was tougher than Asriel, I think. He was too soft, too kind. Me, I wasn't so great, but I could get shit done. In order to protect him, I think I would have done anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiddo is like eleven and keeps on making these kinds of terrible choices  
> dont do that chara  
> dont

 

 

It's weird seeing your face in the mirror. It's a reminder that this isn't my body I'm hanging out in, you know? Your face is all brown and squishy and your hands are so small. You even fidget differently from how I did. You fidget neatly, you tear paper into perfect strips instead of crumpling it up and shredding it.

 

I think we're very different. Too different for anybody to mix us up. I don't know why he did. When I'm driving, it's obvious that this body doesn't belong to me. I'm too thin for it and my face doesn't fit in right; your nose is too short for me. It's like walking in a pair of pants that's just a bit too tight; my steps are forced and it makes my legs ache.

 

...Those things aren't enough, though. Sometimes, I wake up before you, and I forget that you're even there. I get dressed and brush our teeth and I start looking for Asriel, and I don't stop until you wake up and figure out what's going on and subliminate me.

 

It must be kind of scary. Having someone else driving. Do you ever wish you could get rid of me?

 

Of course you do. Stop trying to act nice. I could kill us if I wanted, you know. I'm at least as strong as you are. I could take control right now and walk off a cliff. You haven't SAVED since last summer, right? It would suck to lose all that progress. And now that you--

 

Don't even _say_ that.

 

Let's just get back to the story.

 

Dad and Mom gave me a talking-to. They gave Asriel a talking-to, also, after he got home. They were Very Disappointed In Me. I didn't see what the big deal was, because the kid I scared wasn't a guest in their household, so they didn't have any responsibility for it. Asriel, though, he took it hard. He curled up like a sad turtle on his bed and just sniffled there. It wasn't until past bedtime that I worked myself up to talk to him about it.

 

“It's okay,” I said, hesitantly patting his shoulder. “They're more mad at me, so you should be fine.”

 

He peeked up from under his blanket pile and gave me the Look. I was not deterred.

 

“That guy was making you nervous, right? I got him.” That was an overstatement. I hadn't _really_ gotten him. He didn't have any bruises, so he was only half-gotten.

 

“You shouldn't have.” There were tear tracks in the fur on Asriel's face. I didn't want those to be there. “You really, really shouldn't have.”

 

“You didn't even see it. It wasn't that bad,” I said, switching my methods of persuasion. “They're all exaggerating.”

 

“You pulled him under the table and yelled at him.”

 

“Yeah.” Not that bad.

 

“Why do you keep on doing this stuff?” He wiped his nose with the back of his paw. “Why do you always try to scare people?”

 

“I don't try to scare you,” I said. “I only scare people who deserve it.”

 

“You're not the one who gets to decide who deserves it.” Was there a touch of anger in his voice?

 

“I wanted to know about the Barrier,” I said.

 

“I would have told you.”

 

“You wouldn't have.” I pushed myself up and lay down on the bed next to him. “You wouldn't have told me the part about killing humans.”

 

He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “You're right. I wouldn't have told you that part.”

 

“Why not? I can handle hearing about people dying, you know.” I considered my options. How much was I willing to open up? “I've seen people die. It's not a mystery.”

 

He shuddered. I wanted to hug him until he stopped. I didn't.

 

“I was worried about what you'd think of us,” he said quietly. “I didn't want you to think of us as... as killers, I guess.”

 

“But you guys haven't killed anyone. You said that Dad wouldn't.” They hadn't killed anyone _recently._ The images from the history book flashed in my mind.

 

“We were supposed to, though. That's what everyone wanted us to do. If we killed seven humans, everybody would be free.” His voice tapered off into a whisper. He kept staring straight at the ceiling. “They won't stop asking me about it. I know that they want us to...”

 

“It sounds complicated,” was the only thing I could think to say. I stared at the tear tracks on his fur.

 

That night, we fell asleep next to each other. I couldn't stop thinking about the Barrier. Off the top of my head, I could think of seven humans who deserved to die. I knew I wasn't supposed to be deciding that, but I was the one who'd lived with humans, so I was the most qualified person in the Underground, right?

 

How would somebody use SOULs to break the Barrier? How would they hold them? How would they even know if they'd gotten them? Could a human break the Barrier?

 

Killing was wrong. I knew that killing was wrong. But I'd gotten pretty close to it before. I remembered the day before I'd jumped, and I silently thanked the hole for being so tempting. I knew that Rachel, who loved blue and protected her brother, wouldn't have killed anybody. Most of my personas wouldn't have But I wasn't Rachel anymore. I was just Chara, and I didn't know whether or not I was the sort of person who'd commit murder.

 

I knew that murderers felt guilty. I already felt guilty. I knew that guilt could be too much to bear. I felt pretty shitty pretty often, so maybe I could handle it. I heard people could die from sadness. Maybe I would, but that was better than somebody else dying from it.

 

I knew that Asriel was too sweet to kill anybody. Mom and Dad had been in the war, and were long-tired of killing. Humans could pass through the Barrier. I was a human. Humans had done all sorts of rotten things to monsters, but I could make up for that, maybe. Mom and Dad and Asriel, who were gentle and fuzzy and kind, didn't have to kill anybody. I would do it for them. I would shoulder that unnecessary guilt.

 

Asriel breathed softly next to me. His eyelashes were pale and long, like the filaments on a feather. I leaned a little closer to him, so I could hear his heartbeat, rhythmic and certain. At that moment, more than anything, I wanted to protect him. Asriel would never have to become a murderer. No matter how heavy the burden was, I'd carry it for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh


	12. I Have Only One Thing To Lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't let that happen. Never. Not in a million years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter tonight... I've been really busy with school lately, haha.  
> I've figured that this story, in the end, is gonna be about 17-22 chapters.  
> After this, I'll probably write one about Frisk.

“When's your birthday?” he asked over breakfast. He'd gotten more persuasive; recently, I'd been joining him for meals when nobody else was around. When I ate with him, for some reason, I didn't feel the need to hide my plates.

 

“Dunno,” I answered, taking one of his burnt pancakes.

 

“How old are you?” He took one of my burnt pancakes. We weren't good at making pancakes.

 

“...How old are you?” I narrowed my eyes.

 

“Eleven next week.” He looked at me hopefully. Like a puppy.

 

“Eleven next week,” I said decisively.

 

“That's not true!” he bleated. “You're just saying that because I did.”

 

What? I know that I said I didn't tell him any more lies. Silly ones like that don't count. I didn't even expect him to believe me, really. You're one to talk. You said that anime was real.

 

“I seriously don't know when my birthday is.” Burnt pancakes weren't that bad. “I think I'm maybe twelve. Or twenty-one.” He gave me the Look.

 

“How about the day you fell, then?” My stomach jolted. I'd almost forgotten about that. That was the day that I'd intended to die on.

 

“I guess that would work. Let's just say I'm the same age as you, though.” I poked breakfast with my fork. Asriel giggled.

–

He didn't throw a birthday party. Apparently, they brought cake in at school and that was enough for him. I was relieved (I didn't want those grubby kids going through my stuff), but in the back of my mind I wondered if he was afraid that I'd do something if they came over.

 

That evening, Mom made pie and Dad made tea. Asriel opened his presents. I'd forgotten that you were supposed to give people presents on their birthdays. I felt way guiltier than I probably should have, but he didn't say anything. Mom knit, Dad read his gardening book, Asriel tried to put batteries in his new camcorder, and I sat on the floor feeling bad about myself. It wasn't that different from other evenings.

 

“I'm sorry I forgot to get you a present,” I said as we were getting ready for bed.

 

“I don't mind,” he said. “You can get me one next year.” My stomach did a happy little somersault. Next year. He'd assumed that I'd be here at this time next year.

 

“I'll get you a box of garbage,” I said. “I'm gonna find a broken VHS tape and pretend it's new.” He just laughed. He was developing an immunity.

 

“Should I turn out the lights?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” I said. If he turned out the lights, he wouldn't see how red I was.

–

We went back to the wishing cave in Waterfall. It was my idea, but I tried to act cool about it. For some reason, I'd been thinking about that cave, or that promise I made to myself. I wanted to stay by Asriel's side, protect him, be his knight.

 

When he'd first picked me up, I'd gotten the feeling that he thought I was the vulnerable one. Maybe I had been, sort of, since my leg was broken and I was throwing up and everything. Either way, I didn't want him to try and rescue me, because I didn't want to be rescued. How had things switched around like this? At first that wide-eyed naivety of his really got on my nerves, but now... It was stupid. I didn't want to think about it.

 

I would protect him. He would never lose that gentleness. I--

 

“Are you okay?” he asked. He'd caught me in the middle of a reverie. I shook the absentmindedness out of my head.

 

“I'm just tired,” I answered. “I didn't sleep much last night.”

 

He nodded sympathetically. He didn't ask why, if I was so tired, I'd ask to go stand in ankle-deep water and look at rocks. I took his hand.

 

“Do you wanna make a wish?” I asked.

 

“We have to close our eyes, and we can't say it out loud.” He smiled at me. “That's how humans do it, right?”

 

“Right.” Together, we closed our eyes. I wished for the strength to do terrible things so that he wouldn't have to. When I finished, his eyes were still closed. I wondered what he was thinking.

 

I stared at my own reflection in the water, next to his. It was tinted blue from the lights, and it shivered when I shifted my ankle.

 

“It's me,” I whispered, too softly for him to hear. “It's me, Chara.” I wasn't Henry or Rachel or Delilah. I wasn't Jim; he was long-dead. I was Chara, and Chara was strong. They had nothing to lose, apart from Asriel. And in order to secure Asriel's happiness, they would do anything. _Anything_.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked again. I realized that I'd been squeezing his paw painfully hard. I released it immediately, but he just grabbed my hand again.

 

“I'm actually doing really well,” I said. I smiled without even trying.

 

I looked down at our reflections in the water.

 

“ _It's us.”_

 


	13. I Am Not Prepared for Parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel has bad ideas, and he should feel bad about them.
> 
> I really like him, a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really know what's going on with this chapter and i hope you can accept it
> 
> i'm vvery tired

Mom decided to teach me how to knit. I thought knitting was kind of dumb, at first, but I realized it was nice to have something to do with my hands. I kept dropping stitches, and she kept picking them back up. It was nice. I made a long sheet of unusable purple stuff, and Mom said it was a scarf. She put it on, and she actually looked really pretty.

 

I still didn't have the guts to call her “Mom” out loud. She didn't try to make me, but I felt a little guilty. She was about as mom as a person could get, and I kept on calling her “Lady” and “Mrs. Dreemurr” and “Asriel's Mom.”

 

“Is something bothering you, my child?” she asked one afternoon. Asriel was at school and Dad was busy panicking about paperwork.

 

“Not really,” I said, trying to focus on my needles. “I was just thinking.”

 

I'd been thinking about my murder plan. You don't tell moms about murder plans.

 

“Tell me if anything is worrying you,” she said. I was pretty sure that she wasn't convinced.

 

Killing people. On purpose, by myself. Thinking about it made me anxious. Would I even be strong enough to kill somebody? I'd rather kill an adult, because adults were the reason I was such a wreck. Kids were weaker, though. I wasn't very strong. Could I kill a kid? I'd have to kill seven people. Seven people.

 

What would killing somebody feel like? I knew that dead people looked and felt different from living ones. Live people, even when they were unconscious, had a heat and a presence. Dead people were just heavy and silent. Like furniture.

 

“Chara, you look very pale. Are you sure you feel well?”

 

“I'm fine,” I said. “I'm tired. I need to sleep.” I stood up abruptly, bundled up my knitting in my arms, walked down the hall, and hid under Asriel's bed.

 

...Killing people isn't that hard, in the end. Even when you're in someone else's body. Maybe it's even easier, because it's not your own hands that are doing it. You just have to hold your breath and keep going, no matter what.

 

To kill people, you have to be determined. You have to be completely set, you have to be certain that this is what you want, it _is_ what you want, you're happy about it, it's okay. You have to be prepared to grip a plastic knife in someone else's hand, and just keep stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and stabbing and **s t a b b i n g** until there's nothing left.

 

Frisk, you don't know what it feels like. I'm sure that it's shitty having somebody else in control, but you aren't the one who has to keep going. You stopped resisting and fell asleep, and that was okay, and you didn't have to look, but me, I _did_ , and I just kept on going, I was systematic, I--

 

…

 

Our hands hurt. Did I do it again? I'm sorry.

 

…

 

Killing people is fun, in the end. I swear.

 

...Anyway, I lay down under his bed until he came home, and when he got back I grabbed his ankles and he made a noise.

 

“Where's the Barrier?” I asked that night.

 

“By the garden,” he answered. “Why do you want to know?”

 

“I was just curious.”

 

“Hey, Chara?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I'm really happy that you fell.” I turned to look at him from across the room. He was lying on his side, looking at the wall.

 

“I'm happy that I fell, too.” I think I would have died way earlier if I hadn't fell, to be honest.

 

“I think... I think you're special. You aren't like anyone I've ever met.”

 

“I sure as hell hope you haven't met too many people like me.”

 

“Don't talk about yourself like that. I don't want to hear anybody saying bad things about you, even you.”

 

“I thought you didn't want me to lie anymore.”

 

“You're my best friend, Chara.” My stomach rolled over. Something behind my nose fizzed up, and I felt kind of dizzy.

 

I think I might have cried a little.

–

Asriel wanted to make a movie. He had the camcorder he'd gotten for his birthday, and he had plenty of actors (me and Mom and Dad), and he had an idea for a script. I think if we were on the surface, he would have aimed for an Oscar.

 

“It's about this guy,” he explains as he works on a piece of concept art with his colored pencils. “Who learns that he is the son of a god. And he's really angry, because nobody ever told him.”

 

I nodded. Made sense. “Does he punch people?”

 

“No. He has laser hands. Also, one of his teeth is robotic.” Next level stuff, going on there.

 

“He should punch people with his laser hands.”

 

“No, he won't. He only shoots lasers out of them, and that's only as a Last Resort.” Asriel gave me a very serious look. “Anyway, he learns that the god's been kidnapped by some pirates--”

 

“How would pirates get a _god_?”

 

“Because all of them are gods, too. So the guy has to save the day. And that's the story.” Asriel showed me his concept image. It was mostly rainbows, but I could make out a little goat man with a sad face in the left-hand corner.

 

“Casting ideas?”

 

“I'm the hero, and you're the god.”

 

“ _What?”_ What about me said “god-parent?” If anything, I was a god-pirate! “Why do I have to be the dad?!”

 

“It's not a dad, it's just a god who's got a kid! You don't have to be that if you don't want to, it's just that there are two main characters, and...” The tips of his ears and nose were suspiciously pink.

 

“That's not the point! How come I'm the one who gets rescued?!”

 

“...I could be the dad,” he whispered to the floor.

 

“That's not the point!” I threw my hands up in the air and stormed out of the room as dramatically as I could. I stormed right into Dad. Now there was a candidate!

 

Dad made me apologize for yelling at Asriel. Asriel changed the script so that the hero was rescuing a pirate (who had given him god powers when he was a baby) from other pirates. Then he did another rewrite, and everybody was a pirate. That made the cast kind of homogeneous, so I nagged him a bit, so I was a viking. It was satisfactory.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dadsriel


	14. I Attend A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I loved every minute I spent with him. Those were precious minutes, you know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated in more than a week! I've been kind of overloaded with schoolwork. Statistics were a bad idea (no they were a good idea they improve arguments and make data easy to categorize you can't lie to yourself, shieldings).
> 
> Anyway, here we go, watch these kids spiral

Me, I'm pretty dangerous. I'm not that strong, but I'm persistent. I can keep on going even when I've got an empty stomach and a headcold. When I put my mind to it, I'm pretty much unstoppable, I think. That's “determination,” right?

 

Asriel was different. When things went badly, he'd get discouraged and mopey. He never seemed to come up with backup plans. I think it might have had something to do with being a prince; after all, isn't that kind of a charmed life? I wound up being the person who absorbed his gloominess when he did poorly on tests or got scolded by Mom (Dad sucks at scolding). I didn't really mind, because he was the person who absorbed my crazy.

  
So, when he came back from school one day and collapsed face-first on his bed, I wasn't surprised. As a matter of fact, I was relieved. He'd been busy lately, so I hadn't had much time with him. I patted him on the the back in consolation.

 

“What's wrong?” I asked.

  
“They're still asking questions about you,” he said into his pillow. “At school. They keep asking where the human went.”

 

“Into your kitchen, to eat your food.”

 

“They said that you're nasty.” His voice came out muffled.

 

I shrugged. “I kinda am.”

 

“You're mean sometimes, but you're not _nasty._ ” He rolled over to face me. “I think they just haven't seen your good side.”

 

“You're my good side,” I said, joining him on the bed. “I'm nice when I'm with you.”

 

“Don't talk like that. There are all sorts of good things about you that I don't have.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“You can stand up to people,” he said. “Even people you like. You talk back to Mom and Dad. I'd be too scared of disappointing them. You've got... nerve?”

 

“I'm not scared because I don't care what they think,” I said. He raised his eyebrow at me. I rubbed my nose.

 

“You're funny.”

 

“You'll laugh at anything.”

 

“You don't buckle when you're stressed out, you just keep going.”

 

“That's because I can't get things done when I'm _not_ stressed out.”

 

“Stop being so contradictory!” His ears were pink. It was ridiculous.

 

“Only when you stop being a dork.” I wrapped my arms around him. “Even if it's all in your head, I'm happy that you feel that way about me.”

 

“I just wish you'd stop talking down to yourself.”

 

I just laughed.

–

 

A bunch of people came over. It was a political thing, I think. There weren't any kids (which was a relief), but there were a lot of old monsters in suits and robes and armor. The living room was too small to hold all of them, so they spilled into the hallway and kitchen.

 

Asriel tailed Dad, imitating his body language and listening intently to his conversations with the important people. Dad offered everybody tea. Mom did an amazing job of keeping everybody organized.

 

I hid in the bedroom, waiting for everyone to leave.

 

Mom had warned me about it the day before. Apparently, our house was the only place where this meeting could be held, due to Tradition. That wasn't a good enough reason for me; all those unfamiliar voices made me queasy, and I hated the idea of somebody else sitting in my spot (at the table, on the floor, on the counter, wherever; it was all my territory).

 

I was getting hungry, but the voices hadn't left yet. I knew that it was a potluck event (politicians throwing potlucks... I bet you don't find that on the surface!), and potlucks always had brownies. I weighed my options. If I went outside my room, I'd certainly run into a stranger. The stranger would definitely be someone important, and they would definitely ask questions. I'd have to answer them nicely, because Mom and Dad's reputation depended on it.

 

Could I slip through the crowd, steal a plate of food, and run back to my room without being noticed? If Asriel spotted me, would he try to make me mingle? Did monsters even _make_ brownies? The whole situation was horrifying. I made up my mind to do it: to just close my eyes and test my luck. I opened the door just an inch...

 

“To be honest, I was not sure what to do at first.” Mom sighed and twisted the tip of her ear. “But everyone has been surprisingly open to all this.”

 

“Some folks still aren't sure about having a human in the royal family, Majesty.”

 

“Believe me, I know.” She laughed softly. “I'm the one who checks the mailbox. People have been saying some ugly things.”

 

“Just know that we in the Royal Guard are always on your side, Majesty, no matter what happens. And, personally, I believe that you're doing a good thing.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

I closed the door as quietly as I could. No brownies for Chara.

 

I hadn't even considered the wider implications of me living with the Dreemurrs. They were important, and I was a human. It didn't matter that I wasn't there to personally drive the monsters underground; I was the same sort of creature, so I had symbolic significance. Of _course_ people would be upset! The royal family was harboring the enemy!

 

I wasn't really the enemy, though. That was what I told myself. Since I was going to go to the surface and bring back seven souls, I wasn't really the enemy. I would prove my loyalty, and that would be that. Nobody could say anything bad about me if I set them all free. I was a good guy. Humans were evil, but I didn't have to be. If I killed enough people, I would be guiltless.

 

“Chara!” Asriel burst into the room. “I've been looking for you everywhere!” He closed the door (surprisingly quietly) and slid down to join me on the floor.

 

“I don't like crowds,” I said. “So I'm not going to leave the room until they're all gone.”

 

“You're the only other kid at this whole party,” he whined. “I need an excuse to avoid the adults.”

 

“Seriously?” I perked up. “ _You_ want to avoid people?”

 

His nose turned pink. “Just these ones. They keep on asking me the same questions, and I'm running out of new answers. Also, they keep patting me on the head and I don't like it.”

 

“Welcome to my life, Azzy.” I smirked. His nose got redder. It was fucking adorable.

 

“Since- since when do you call me that?” he spluttered.

 

I shrugged. “Since I decided I wanted to. Do you want me to call you something else? Ree? Asri? Azz-ree?”

 

“Don't call me anything! Or... just Asriel is fine.”

 

“If that's what you want.” _If that's what you want, Just Asriel._

 

“Seriously, though, will you please come out? I really need the company.”

 

I agreed to come out, but I clung onto him like a pissed-off baby koala for the rest of the day. I got my brownies, and they were alright. Whenever anybody tried to talk to us, Asriel would come up with an excuse to walk away. In the end, the party wasn't as scary as it had seemed, but that might have just been because I was with him. He made the bad parts of life better.

 

Since he was so kind to me all the time, the only way I could repay him was in souls. I knew that until I'd broken the barrier, I'd be a leech. I cared about him more than I'd ever cared about anyone, so I reminded myself, again and again, that I was willing to do absolutely anything for him. When we were in the kitchen, I paid close attention to the knife rack. Would any of those do?

 

Even when we were laughing about the stiff-necked adults all around us, I had violent thoughts lurking in the back of my mind. They didn't even bother me; they were just reminders of what I had to do. That was “determination,” right?

 


	15. I Wound a Plant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to be loved, I think. I wanted to be trusted and admired. But more than anything, I wanted control...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SELF-HARM WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER!!
> 
> Sorry about the irregular posting; college is wild. By that, I don't mean I've been partying, I mean that I've been doing a shitload of homework and laundry.
> 
> Anyway, here's Chara, and here's Suffering

Hey, Frisk... You're not really listening anymore, are you?

 

It's because you know where this is going. You know that I keep on saying that I wanted to protect him, and that I swore to myself that I'd never let anything corrupt him, and all that sappy bullshit. You know that I failed. I tried to force him into killing, and then I let him die. When he woke up, he did even more killing, and I'm pretty sure that at this point, his LOVE is so high that he's irredeemable.

 

You know this story has a sad ending, so you don't want to hear it anymore. It messes with your optimism.

 

Or, maybe I'm just tired of telling it. Maybe I'm tired of spilling my guts out all over you (figuratively; I'm pretty sure they've disintegrated by now), when you have no right to know.

 

I need to get it out. I need to tell this story, because it will rot if it stays inside me for too long. I'll force you to pay attention.

 

There! Did you feel that? I bit our tongue. I'm still in here, you know! You can't ignore your own thoughts, and since I'm you and you're me, I'm your thoughts. If that makes any sense.

 

Do you remember what it felt like when we couldn't tell who was who? At the beginning, I mean. When you thought you were me and I thought I was you. We were both Chara. It was nice, not being alone anymore. Did you like it, too? Maybe not as much as I did, but you liked the company, right?

 

I mean, even now, I'm here, right? I'm here. Listen to me.

 

...Thanks.

–

I found the truth one slow afternoon, when Mom was knitting and Asriel was at school. I sat on the floor in the living room, as I liked to do, and went through my fifth history book that month. I was half-asleep already, and I was skimming.

 

The first time my eyes passed over _“must fuse their own soul with the human's, for no being can cross the Barrier alone”_ I took it for granted. I'd learned out how soul absorption worked at that point, and I had a rough idea of a plan in my head (cross over, kill seven humans, preferably bad ones, return with their souls and be loved by everybody).

 

I was a few paragraphs down when it struck me. I reread the sentence: “no being.” In that context, couldn't the author have just said “monster?” “Being” was so vague. My stomach began to twist. I tucked the book under my arm, grabbed whatever looked promising from the shelf, and raced to my room, my sock-feet slipping a little on the hardwood.

 

I checked all the indexes. “Soul absorption,” “Barrier,” “magical capabilities (human).” Most of the books didn't bother to mention that simple, horrifying fact, but enough of them did for it to be credible. To cross the Barrier, a monster would have to die. I would have to kill not only humans, which were evil, but also somebody blameless.

 

Maybe it didn't have to be somebody blameless. Did monsters have a death penalty? I hadn't even heard of a monster prison system, but maybe I could get lucky and...

 

Get lucky and kill somebody. My stomach kept on twisting. I wondered if I was going to throw up for a second, but then I remembered that monster food didn't digest the same way human food did. My heart was pounding (was I going to have a heart attack? Was I going to die as a preteen from a heart attack?), and my head was fuzzy.

 

Maybe some old monster would just die out of nowhere. Maybe I could just take some old monster's soul and cross over with that. I couldn't think of any old monsters off the top of my head, but that was because I hardly knew anybody. There had to be some. The Underground was big.

 

How would I absorb a soul, anyway? The books talked about it as though it was easy; maybe it was a magic thing. If humans could absorb souls, I could probably do it. I could absorb a soul. What would it feel like? Would it move around inside of me? Would it know that it wasn't supposed to be there?

 

I fell back onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, willing my limbs to stop tingling and my vision to clear up. It wouldn't happen. My heart kept on pounding, I needed some way to ground myself (was I about to die?).

 

I'd ask Asriel if he knew anybody who was going to die soon. Would that be a weird question to ask? I'd have to be prepared first. I'd have to have a fully-articulated plan. If somebody died, I'd have to grab their soul before it disappeared and cross the Barrier. I'd grab a soul and cross the Barrier and somehow, _somehow_ kill seven humans. I'd kill all the people who'd ever hurt me, maybe. Even the ones from out of town. I'd get them all back.

 

I heard knocking on the door. I knew it was Asriel; he always paused in between knocks. I couldn't let him see me like this. My plan wasn't done! He couldn't know yet, if he found out too early he'd ruin everything! Why wouldn't my ears stop ringing!? How was I supposed to come up with a good plan when my ears were ringing?

 

I fell back into a bad habit. I rolled up my sleeve and bit my own forearm. Immediately, endorphins rushed into my fogged up head. I wasn't reckless; I knew not to draw blood. I focused on the pressure on my skin, the sensation of firmness in my mouth, and the slight, sweet aching that crept up my arm.

 

I released my arm and took a deep breath. Asriel kept knocking at the door; I ignored him. My teeth had left a perfect red crescent; it was symmetrical and neat and almost cute. I sighed in relief and rolled my sleeve back down. I hadn't gone this far in a long time; my bad habit had usually just been little things, like scratching myself with safety-pins and plucking hair off of my arms. I didn't _like_ pain that lasted. Sure, it was satisfying to see blood, but it was no fun a week afterward when it was itchy and scabby and I had no control over it. I mean, why hurt yourself when it gets in the _way_ of control, right? Right?

 

Don't make that face, it's stupid.

 

I brushed my bangs back from my sweaty forehead. “Come in!” I said. Asriel opened the door.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling off his backpack.

 

“Better than ever,” I answered.

–

I didn't act better than ever, I think, because Dad asked what was wrong when he saw me moping under the dinner table.  
  


“Nothing,” I answered. “I'm better than ever.”

 

“Chara, I'd like to think that you respect me enough to tell the truth.” Shit. Was I really getting that bad at lying? I'd have to up my game.

 

“I'm stir-crazy,” I said. “I don't go outside enough, probably.”

 

“In that case, come with me to the garden,” he said. He smiled. Dad had a nice smile. He still does, I guess. Make him smile more often, okay?

 

I hadn't actually been to the garden. I knew that it was near the Barrier, and I knew that Dad and Asriel spent a lot of time there. I'd never bothered to look (actually, I'd never been asked to go there, and I didn't want to intrude).

 

Dad was big, so I had to walk pretty fast to keep up with him. He hummed a little bit, and played with the strings on his sunhat. I wondered why he needed a sunhat. We were underground, right? No sun. Just rocks and a luminous atmosphere (in some regions, at least).

 

The door to the garden creaked open. Dad looked over his shoulder to make sure I was still following him. I waved.

 

There was sunshine in that garden. I guess I should have expected it (it was close to the Barrier, after all, and therefore close to the surface), but it still took my breath away. I couldn't see the sky when I looked at the ceiling; roots and leaves obscured it. But it was sunlight all the same, warm and golden and real.

 

Dad knelt down carefully, so as not to crush any flowers. Not knowing what else to do, I crouched down and watched his hands carefully.

 

He treated each plant a little differently. When they drooped, he straightened them up and tied them to small stakes with bits of Mom's yarn. When they were so large that they overshadowed the others, he clipped off their larger leaves to make room. One of them was very small and sickly; with his gardening knife, he gently broke the earth around it and moved it into a spot with more sunlight.

 

It was hypnotic.

 

We carried on like this for some time. The smell of dirt and pollen made me a little drowsy.

 

“Would you like to try?” he asked.

 

“Try what?” I jerked up and straightened my back.

 

“Would you like to try pruning one of the plants?”

 

I nodded, hesitantly. He handed me the gardening knife. It was warm and heavy in my hand. I cut off a leaf that cast a shadow over a patch of buttercups, maybe a little too messily. He nodded in approval.

 

Everything about that place was golden.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which dadsgore gives chara a fuckin knife
> 
> and chara uses a fuckin knife
> 
> yet nobody is stabbed. proud of u kiddo


	16. I Am Terrible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kids aren't supposed to have these kinds of thoughts.
> 
> If they knew what kind of a person I was, they wouldn't want me around children or old people or pets or anything.
> 
> I'm dangerous.
> 
> There's definitely something wrong with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids do you like Pain  
> (WARNING for discussion of self harm and depiction of illness)

“What's on your arm?” Asriel asked. I'd forgotten that my pajamas had short sleeves. I had bad foresight.

 

“I got it caught in the door.” I reached for a sweater and pulled it on.

 

“No, you didn't.” There was a note of accusation in his voice. “That's the most blatant lie I've ever heard you tell.”

 

“Bit it,” I muttered. “Not a big deal.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“I got stressed out, and I needed something to bite. It's not a big deal.” I chewed on my thumbnail. “Do you want to go to the garden for a while?”

 

“No, I don't!” He stomped his foot. He looked like a little kid. “Why would you hurt yourself like that? Is this like the thing with the wardrobe?”

 

“I was stressed out! God, Asriel, you're so dramatic.” This was embarrassing. This was why I wore long sleeves.

 

“Hurting yourself shouldn't relieve stress.” He plopped down on his bed and sighed. “That's not how things are supposed to work.”

 

“It's different for humans.” I didn't really know if it was different, but I needed some way to calm him down. Anyway, who knows? Maybe monsters don't get endorphin rushes when they bite themselves and punch themselves in the head and stuff. I don't know shit about science.

 

“Please don't bite yourself, Chara. Promise you'll stop.”

 

I promised, but I figured that I could come up with some other way to calm down. Maybe I'd find some safety pins and scratch myself again, or something.

 

Looking back, I probably shouldn't have let my bad habit resurface like that, but it felt _good_. And any injuries I gave myself were my own, and that was worth something to me.

–

It had been a while since I'd fallen. I was taller, healthier, and more in control of my own thoughts and actions. Asriel was still short and cute, but one Wednesday, I noticed nubs on his head when we were walking to the living room. I wanted to tease him about them, but that was when the confetti started falling.

 

“Happy birthday!” he said.

 

“I don't have a birthday,” I said.

 

“It's the anniversary of your arrival.” He looked at Mom and Dad, who both nodded in encouragement. “We wanted to celebrate finding you.”

 

I wanted to thank him, but I wasn't sure what words I should use. Instead, I just stood there stupidly. I tried to remember what Asriel had done on his birthday. I should probably just do what he did, right? I didn't want to think about when I first came here, because that made me think about how I was going to leave. On your birthday, you aren't supposed to think about murder.

 

“We know that you don't like commotions,” Mom said, easing herself out of her chair. “So we decided it would be best to celebrate quietly. Asriel insisted on the confetti.”

 

“Confetti is cool,” he announced. I nodded. I could see where he was coming from.

 

Mom made the same type of stew she'd made on my first night, and a butterscotch-cinnamon pie. Asriel insisted on filming with his camcorder, and he kept on stopping us for interviews. Dad gave me a gardening knife, and Mom gave me a new set of knitting needles. Both were wrapped up in way too much multicolored tissue paper.

 

“Any comments on your presents this year?” Asriel asked, in a mediocre impersonation of an anchorman.

 

“They're really sharp,” I said. I fidgeted with the sleeve of my sweater. “Thanks, I guess.”

 

“Smile for the camera!” I really did try. He made that dumb squeaky noise, and it was adorable.

 

I think I had a pretty happy birthday, all things considered.

\--

I don't want to talk about the thing with the pie. I really really _really_ don't want to talk about the thing with the pie. But I probably should.

 

I swear that it was an accident. Asriel was the one who picked the buttercups. It wasn't me. I know what you're thinking. It was his fault, maybe, not mine.

 

It was both of us. Asriel was the one who misread, and I was the one who let him. It was stupid, plain and simple. It was stupid stupid stupid stupid

 

bad

 

Anyway, it was my fault. Haha. I admitted something.

 

He ate it even though it was acrid and bitter, because he loved us.

 

Monsters don't usually have those kinds of problems; with their insides, I mean. Monster food doesn't get digested; it can't mess up your guts. Buttercups aren't food, though. Buttercups seriously mess up your guts.

 

We were completely unprepared for Dad's reaction to the poison. We didn't even have a bathroom. He hid in his bedroom, alone, for two or three days. Mom kept on switching out the buckets, and Asriel wouldn't stop crying. I crept into the room to check on him, even though I knew it was a bad idea.

 

He didn't see me enter. He was curled up in a fetal position on his bed, facing the wall. I'm not sure he was even fully conscious. He shook every now and then. He gagged on his own spit. Even lying down, he was enormous, and something about that was horrifying to me.

 

See, way before I jumped down the hole, I spent a lot of time at the public library. I didn't need money to go in, and it was quiet and air conditioned and open until 9 PM. In the reference section, there was a book of endangered animals, glossy and bigger than my head. Even though I looked at it often, I still forgot all of the pictures, save for one.

 

The picture I'd seen in the public library was of a poached elephant. The animal lay on its side, with its tusks cut off and its trunk deflated. Its body had collapsed inward; it seemed loose and floppy. It looked as though it had been hollowed out, even though there were no cuts in its skin. A mournful-looking biologist stood by its head, his eyes downcast. Even though the elephant had been mangled and humiliated in death, its head was still bigger than he was.

 

Dad reminded me of that murdered elephant: massive, powerful, and stripped of all his dignity. I mean, he was the King of the whole Underground! He was older than the Barrier, and maybe the wisest person I'd ever met. I'd reduced him to a shivering, shitting heap with a handful of cute yellow flowers.

 

It was _hilarious_.

 

I began to shake with silent laughter. I stumbled out of his bedroom and into mine, closed the door, and collapsed. I couldn't stop laughing, it was just so strange, it was like something out of a fairy tale or a horror movie or a book of endangered species from the public library. My stomach hurt. The corners of my mouth hurt. It was the funniest thing that I'd ever seen.

 

Then it struck me: he was _dying_. A monster was dying, right here, right next to the Barrier. It was the best luck I could have hoped for.

 

I began to think through my options: I knew that monster souls dissipated soon after their bodies died. I'd have to act fast and absorb it before it was too late. I had to have a way to kill my seven humans; after a moment, I decided that my gardening knife would do the trick (it was sharp and new and beautiful). Would Mom or Asriel try to stop me? I hoped they would know that I was doing this for them, and not for me.

 

My heart slammed violently against the inside of my chest. I felt a sort of manic glee rising inside of me. This was going to work, I was going to free everybody, I was going to be... a hero? Would doing this really make me a hero, or would it just make me a necessary murderer?

 

Asriel knocked on the door.

 

“Come in,” I said.

 

His face was covered in tear streaks, and he was drooping like a sun-deprived plant. “What are we going to do?” he asked.

 

“We'll be fine,” I said, turning to face him. His eyes widened in... shock? Confusion?

 

“Are-- are you okay?”

 

“I'm doing great,” I said. It came out kind of like a witch's cackle. “We'll be fine. We'll be better than fine.”

 

“Mom says he's improving,” Asriel said.

 

“What?” I could feel my face drooping and the adrenaline pouring out of my head (I think it landed somewhere in my large intestine). “He is?”

 

“What are we going to tell him?” Asriel asked, staring into space. I could see more tears welling up in his eyes. “I mean, it was definitely the pie.”

 

“He's going to be okay,” I repeated.

 

“He looks so miserable...”

 

“He's going to live,” I said.

 

“I don't know how-- what are we going to say?” Asriel's nose was running. I gestured for him to come closer, and I wrapped my arms around him.

 

“We'll say 'sorry,' I guess. Is there anything else we can say?” He squeezed me, and I rested my forehead on his chest.

 

I had wanted Dad to die.

 

I had wanted my father to die a painful, miserable death so that I would have the opportunity to murder seven people. He was lying in the next room, shuddering and hurting and drooling, and I had been here laughing and plotting. I was struck with the realization that I was a terrible person.

 

I wanted Asriel to leave. My arm needed biting.

–

It had been a couple of weeks, and Dad had mostly recovered. He was still eating lightly, and the inside of his mouth was sore, but he was working in the garden again. I joined him often. Despite the sins crawling on my back, I loved the sunlight. Despite the fact that I'd been perfectly okay with the idea of his painful death, I loved Dad. And despite everything, I loved the buttercups.

 

Mom and Dad hadn't called either of us about the poisoning. I'm not sure they actually knew what had caused Dad's sudden illness. I know that Asriel was wracked with guilt over it. I didn't feel particularly great about it either, but at least nobody was angry with me. I kind of related to those buttercups, actually. They looked so innocent, but they were killers.

 

What would everybody say, if they knew what was going on inside my head? Would it be like it had been way back then, before I'd jumped down the hole?

 

“ _Henry tried to claw Todd's eyes out.”_

 

“ _Delilah doesn't act like a child.”_

 

“ _This isn't like you, Rachel.”_

 

“ _A strange kid.”_

 

“ _Creepy.”_

 

“ _A **D E M O N**.”_

 

“Chara, will you get my gloves? I need to pull some weeds.”

 

“Sure.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sure like me some Pain


	17. I Give and Receive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...I used him. I was probably the worst possible person for him to be around.
> 
> You know, I don't regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for lengthy discussion of suicide and self harm.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, folks. Extra-long chapter to make up for that.

Time kept passing. It made me feel a little sick.

 

Asriel kept on shining. He smiled at me with pointy teeth, blinked at me with pale eyelashes, and was, in general, frustratingly pure. I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if he found out what I was planning, or what I _was_. A person like him didn't deserve to hang around a murderer.

 

What would Mom and Dad think? They believed that I was just a child, an innocent child, probably. They looked at me and saw a kid, because that was what I was on the outside. They couldn't read my thoughts. If they could, they would recoil.

 

What kind of kid spends all their time thinking about ways to kill people? What kind of kid carefully plots out murder while knitting a sweater for their dad, who they almost killed? What kind of kid is able to eat without throwing up, considering what goes on in their head?

 

I was sadistic, maybe. I'd read about that a while ago; maybe I was somebody who derived pleasure from other people's pain. That made sense, I guessed. The idea of killing the people who'd hurt me was incredibly satisfying. The scenarios in my head got more and more complex:

 

When I lived with Jim under the bridge, there was this cop who'd always kick us out. He'd say, “no loitering!” and I'd say “fuck yourself!” and Jim would say, “Rachel, calm down.” I'm 100% sure that he knew that the bridge was pretty much our house, because the guys at the homeless shelter really hated Jim. I don't know what he did, but they were _pissed_ at him.

 

So, anyway, since that cop had bothered us at least once a week and one time he used pepper spray, I figured that I'd get his soul by catching him in his house. I didn't know where he lived, but it would be poetic justice. I'd say something cool like, “no loitering” and he'd try to get me but I'd get him first, and that would be a soul to absorb to break the Barrier and free the people who deserved it.

 

I'd stab him right in the belly, maybe. With my gardening knife.

 

And then Asriel would be best friends with a murderer.

 

And, even if I freed him, did he really deserve to be in _debt_ to me?

 

Mom and Dad were too kind to kill anybody, even to break the Barrier. Would they really want to be around someone who wasn't? They might say they'd forgiven me, but I'd still be a killer.

 

And what would that say to the rest of humanity? I mean, if the royal family kept me, they'd be condoning what I did. Even if it was the right thing, I don't think that it would be good for their public image. How would I make sure that the blame didn't get shifted to them?

 

I tried to weigh the costs and benefits in my head. I liked living with the Dreemurrs. They liked me, for whatever reason. However, if my plan worked, it would incriminate them by proxy. They wouldn't be able to live a happy life on the surface, especially since I was a weird, messy extra figure with a weird, messy past.

 

How much did I _really_ want to go to the surface, myself? I'd been there before, and it wasn't that great. I wasn't a romantic like Asriel; the stars were just the stars to me. I didn't appreciate the surface. I took it for granted. In the grand scheme of things, I was just deadweight.

  
I kept on messing up. No matter how hard I tried, I wound up hurting the people around me. This would definitely continue if I broke the Barrier. And humans were meaner than monsters; my mistakes would probably be ten times worse up there. My mistakes Underground led to Dad getting sick and Asriel getting in trouble. My mistakes on the surface world... I didn't even want to imagine what I'd do to my family.

 

All the same, I needed some way to repay them for all their kindness. I needed to break the Barrier, and then somehow quietly move out of the way. Maybe I'd retire (did you have to have a job first to retire?).

 

Even if I retired, I'd probably figure out some way to screw things up remotely. I hated to admit it, but the best choice was incredibly clear. On a foggy morning in late spring, I was sitting on the counter, eating cheese crackers and writing swear words in Asriel's science notebook. That was when it struck me: all of my problems pertaining to my plan would be solved if I just disappeared after I was done.

 

If I died, I would just be a sad story. I wouldn't have to keep on trying to prove myself, because self-sacrifice is a pretty grand gesture. If I died, I could completely sever myself from both humans and monsters, leaving nothing but an open, blood-spattered Barrier and my love for Asriel. It was the perfect solution.

 

Here's something funny: suicidal people are supposed to be super depressed and anxious and stuff, right? Suicide is how they deal with it all becoming too much. But me, I was the opposite. My life was better than it had ever been. I was healthier, more energetic, and surrounded by a loving family. And that support gave me the motivation to kill myself.

 

Here's the funniest part: I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. The idea of killing myself was actually pretty pleasant. I mean, I wasn't exactly thinking about methods, but in concept, it didn't sound half-bad. I wouldn't have to handle the guilt from harvesting the souls, and I wouldn't have to explain myself to anybody. I could comfortably fade from existence, leaving behind my responsibilities and my neuroses and the crescent-shaped bite marks on my arms.

 

I tore out a page from Asriel's notebook and stuffed it into my pocket. That night, I wrote out a list of possible courses of action:

  * stab everybody then stab myself (I might not be strong enough)

  * jump off mountain after breaking barrier (last time I fell it didn't work)

  * jump off jim's bridge (maybe tie bricks to my ankles or something, haha)

  * burn down town with gasoline and me in the building with the people (would the souls know where to go)




None of my ideas seemed particularly plausible. I wasn't a very fast runner; the people would probably catch me as soon as I was done with my dirty work. Jumping off the bridge seemed to be the easiest way to die, but I knew how to swim. What if I wimped out at the last minute? What if the bricks came off?

 

I mean, Jim died pretty easy. I could do most of the stuff he could do, so why not drown?

 

I had high goals, I think.

–

“I can't believe it's only been a year and a half.” He dug his fingers into the soft earth of the garden as we lay side-by-side. “It feels like I've known you my whole life.” Asriel smiled at me, with perfect tiny fangs. Not so tiny anymore, maybe. He was already taller than me, and the nubs on his head had sprouted into baby horns.

 

“It doesn't feel like it's been that long,” I said. I'd spent so long ruminating about it that the idea of dying wasn't the least bit frightening to me anymore.

 

“I'm happy I met you.”

 

“I'm happy you met me, too.” I laced my fingers with his. “Hey, can I tell you a secret?”

 

“What kind of secret?” He met my eyes. He looked so damn _innocent_. It made me feel a little nauseated.

 

“A happy one.” The golden sunlight hit his fur at just the right angle. He looked like he was glowing.

 

“Then, tell away.”

 

“I'm planning on breaking the Barrier.”

 

He stiffened, and pulled himself into a sitting position. His fingers slipped from mine; I wanted to grab them again. “What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“I know I'll need a monster soul, so I'm waiting for somebody to die,” I said, still lying down. “I'll absorb it, cross the Barrier, harvest the souls, and--”

 

“No.” He shook his head. His ears swung wildly. I wondered how many times I'd thought about pulling them. “You can't, Chara. I won't let you.”

 

“It would set you free,” I said. I wouldn't tell him about the part where I died; not yet. I had to warm him up to the idea first. “You'd feel unfiltered sunlight. You could see the ocean, and the real stars.”

 

“People would be killed.”

 

“You won't have to do it.” I plucked a buttercup from the ground, and rolled it between my thumb and forefinger. “I'd handle it. I'm tough.” I smiled at him. My fingers blistered.

 

“I care about you too much to let you become a murderer.” He flopped down backwards.

 

“There are flowers like these on the surface,” I said, pulling up another buttercup. “They're bigger, and they make tea out of them. They don't make you shit yourself.”

 

“Stop changing the subject. You wouldn't even be able to get through the Barrier. Monster souls don't last long enough to be absorbed. Only boss monsters can--”

 

“I'll find a way.” I kept crushing flowers, even though they burned. “Let me do this for you, Asriel. It's my gift to you.”

 

“It's a terrible gift,” he sulked. “And it's not happening.”

 

“I thought you trusted me.” I rolled over, so that our noses were almost touching. “I thought you loved me, Asriel.”

 

“I--” his lip quivered. “Of course I do. That's why I can't--”

 

“Humans have hurt your people. Humans have hurt _me_.” With a bleeding, aching hand, I stroked his soft cheek. It left red streaks in his pure, glowing fur. “There's no other way for me to repay your kindness.”

 

“I don't want to be payed,” he whispered. “I'm happy just being here with—”

 

“I'm not.” I pushed myself up on my elbows, and pulled up my sleeve. Rows of round, perfect, cute scars from countless anxious nights were painted up and down my forearm. Asriel started to say something, but I interrupted him. “I'm not the kind of person who can just lie back and do nothing. When I'm stressed, I need relief. And when I'm grateful, I need to pay.” I laughed quietly. “You're my best friend, and this is the only way I can show you how much you mean to me.”

 

Asriel sniffled. Tears dripped down his nose, diluting and smudging the bloody streaks from my hand. “I can't let you do this.”

 

“Big kids don't cry, Asriel.”

–

It was his birthday again. I knitted him a pink hat, out of the same yarn I'd made Dad's sweater with. He hugged me and kissed me on the forehead and said it was beautiful. Mom made pie, Dad made tea, and I sat on the floor feeling bad about myself. It wasn't really all that different from any other night.

 

Asriel and me filmed each other making faces and dancing without music. The scars on my hand had healed over; I'm certain that Mom saw them, but she didn't say anything. Asriel and me clung on to each other like urchins; we were feral, maybe. We'd been bound together by secrets and blood and crushing guilt.

 

I slept in his bed that night. He asked me why I was so determined to cause myself pain. I told him that nothing else worked for me, and if it was any consolation, seeing him happy was enough to make me ecstatic.

–

“I wish that there was some way I could make this easier for you,” he said as I read yet another history book, scanning the pages for a way to preserve a monster soul, or absorb it before it shattered.

 

“Just having you by my side makes it easier.” I leaned against the wardrobe. I remembered the time I'd used it to break my leg. It seemed kind of funny, looking back.

 

“They might kill you,” he said.

 

“I'm prepared for that possibility,” I said. “To be honest, I think I probably will die.”

 

“That's awful.”

 

“You'll see the stars.”

 

“Chara... Do you _want_ to die?”

 

“How should I respond to a question like that?”

 

He laid a heavy paw on my book, blocking the page I'd been reading. “Do you?” He stared at me with an intensity I'd never seen on his face before. “You keep hurting yourself. You act so flippant. Do you want to die?”

 

I sighed. I hadn't wanted to tell him so soon, but what else was I supposed to do? “No matter how I carry this plan out, I'll absolutely be dead by the time it's over. I don't want to die, but I'm more productive dead than alive.”

 

“Chara, I--” his eyes were wide; he was upset, I think. “You can't possibly think that's true!”

 

“It is, though.”

 

“I don't want you to die! What would I do without you? I couldn't possibly--”

 

“In that case,” I said, feeling a plan beginning to blossom in my mind. “How about we always stay together?”

 

He looked taken aback. “That was what I was saying.”

 

“Asriel, you trust me, right?”

 

“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes.

 

“You'll love me, even if I'm an idiot?” I closed my book. I reached out and stroked his head, working my fingers carefully around his small horns.

 

“Nothing could stop me.” He leaned into me and put his head on my shoulder.

 

“Then let me corrupt you.” The words felt filthy.

 

“...What do you mean?” His voice was almost a whisper.

 

“Monster souls shatter, but human souls keep.”

 

“I don't like this.”

 

“Asriel, if you don't want me to break the Barrier, will you do it for me?”

 

“I can't.” I felt a wet spot on my tee-shirt.

 

“You can't, but _we_ can.” I turned so I was fully embracing him. “Asriel, let me die.”

 

“Chara...”

 

“Take my soul across the Barrier,” I whispered into his ear. “If you won't let me become a killer, then let yourself.” I realized that tears were welling up in my eyes, hot and nearly overflowing. “Set them free, for my sake.”

 

“You're my best friend, Chara.”

 

“Then take my soul. It's no good otherwise. It's dirty, you know.” I squeezed him tighter.

 

“I love you, Chara.”

 

“I'll probably kill myself eventually anyway. We might as well make my death mean something, right?”

 

He held onto me for dear life. I could feel his body shaking with suppressed sobs.

 

“Asriel, you're the most important person in the world, to me.”

 

He said something so quietly that it was almost unintelligible: “When I have your soul, I'll cherish it. After I've broken the Barrier, I'll never let it go.”

 

“We'll be together forever, Asriel.”

 

We didn't let go of each other for some time.

–

A few days later, he came to me with a solemn face and a silver box. I opened it. Inside were two lockets; one of a red, upright soul, and the other of a silver one that pointed upwards like an arrow.

 

“I had them made special,” he said. “To match.”

 

Without asking, I reached for the red one. I clasped it around his neck. He did the same for me; the chain was cold, but soothing.

 

I think you probably remember this, Frisk. You wore my locket, once upon a time. You can't have forgotten the inscription in the metal:

 

“ _Best Friends Forever”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title:  
> Fuck Don't Do That Chara


	18. I Get A Piggyback Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was filled with determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning here for the usual Chara suffering business, as well as some pretty gross illness stuff.
> 
> Also, I always wondered what buttercups would taste like. I looked it up and they're apparently bitter, but anything that burns or blisters tastes a little sour or spicy, too, so IDK. I think too much about this stuff.

Frisk, you've died, but you haven't _died_. I mean, I know having bones shoved through your stomach again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again hurts, but it's pretty quick. See, I had to make it look like an accident. You got to just die because you were shit--

 

I'm sorry, _we_ were shit. Look, it's not easy for me to talk about this stuff, okay?

 

We figured it would be best to start as soon as possible, so we wouldn't have time to change our minds. Asriel still hadn't gotten over the pie, and that gave me the idea of using the flowers. It didn't take that many to make Dad get really sick, so we figured that if I just kept on eating them, I'd die eventually.

 

I filled up a grocery bag with buttercups, and that didn't even seem to thin the growth in the sunny patches of the garden. I put it in the wardrobe, in the same spot where I used to hide my stolen dinner plates. I waited until nightfall.

 

Asiel sat on his bed, looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face as I opened the wardrobe.

 

“You're really doing this,” he said.

 

“Yep.” I pulled out a handful of flowers; they'd wilted, but they were still just as bright as they'd been when I'd picked them. I stared at them for a good minute. I didn't realize how tightly I'd been gripping them until my hand started to tingle from crushed petals.

 

“How long do you think it'll take?” he asked.

 

“Not too long, I hope. Stay with me the whole time.”

 

“I will.”

 

“As soon as I'm gone, you need to leave. Don't stay here and mourn or anything.” I kneaded the petals between my fingers, almost savoring the burning itch.

 

“Of course.” His voice was emotionless and soft; I almost wished that he'd cry for me. Sick, right?

 

“Keep your promise,” I said. I shoved the handful of crushed flowers into my mouth. The taste was indescribable; bitter and pungent, like Dramamine ground up and mixed with dirt. It was acidic and sour at the same time, burning the inside of my cheek, and yet... there was a kind of strange sweetness to them as I choked them down.

 

Asriel's eyes widened in the dark. “Did it go down?” he asked.

 

I tried to say, “it did” but it came out as a sort of bubbling slur. The inside of my mouth felt bloated and oversized. I tasted blood. I swallowed it, because what else are you supposed to do with a mouth full of blood and poison? I gave Asriel a thumbs-up before reaching back into my grocery bag.

 

He didn't try to stop me or help me with my flowers or anything. He just sat there in astonished silence, gripping his sheets and never looking away from my face.

 

The second handful didn't go down as smoothly; my blistering throat didn't want to swallow it. No matter how I tried, the mess of leaves and petals and stray roots would not go down.

 

“Water,” I choked out. Asriel woke up from his daze and stumbled out of the room. I heard Mom's voice down the hall, asking him what he'd gotten up for. I couldn't understand what he said, but it seemed to satisfy her. He came back with my water, and I swallowed the rest of the flowers like pills, without chewing them or letting them linger in my mouth for too long.

–

My stomach was killing me. I curled up into a ball on my bed, trying to ignore the intermittent churning and stabbing. Mom put a cold washcloth on my forehead, which didn't help (my guts were not in my forehead).

 

“I don't know what could have come over them,” she whispered to Dad. “Just yesterday, they were playing in the garden like nothing was wrong.”

 

I think I might have shit myself, but it was a haze. I know that somebody moved me out of bed for a minute to change the sheets. I was drooling and puking and altogether probably the grossest thing that had ever been in that house.

 

I mean, I was _way_ grosser than I was when Asriel rescued me. I mean, that was a little blood and some vomit and a shinbone, and this was full-on guts spilling out of both ends onto the guest towels. I'd outdone myself.

 

I languished like that for a day and a half, according to Asriel.

 

Then, I started feeling better.

 

It was a disaster.

 

“What the fuck,” I said. “Why am I not dead?”

 

“I don't know why,” he said. Even though he was trying to hide it, he looked overjoyed. The corners of his eyes were crinkling.

 

“I didn't eat enough flowers,” I said. “God, I'm going to have to eat more flowers.”

 

“Or maybe you could just wait and see if--” I grabbed his ear with a scabby hand and pulled him down closer to me.

 

“You _promised_ ,” I whispered.

 

“Maybe it's just not meant to be,” he said. “I'm-- I'm not sure I like this plan anymore...” I reached up and pulled his locket out from under his sweater.

 

“Does this mean anything to you?” I asked. “If you're really my friend, you'll let me die.”

 

His lip quivered. He nodded.

 

“Get more flowers,” I said. “Get more flowers and some water.”

 

He brushed my bangs to the side and kissed my sweaty forehead. He stood, tucked his locket back underneath his sweater, picked up my grocery bag, and left the room.

–

Each mouthful hurt more than the last, but that was okay. I was working towards a goal, and I was going to reach that goal. I just had to get over the hill; being dead wouldn't feel like anything, probably. The pain was temporary.

 

I saw Dad crying. He thought I was asleep. He told me that I was the future. He told me that if I grew up big and strong and healthy, someday I could maybe help heal the old wounds that humans and monsters had given each other.

 

I knew better than that. Some wounds are impossible to heal. They get infected. Sometimes, you just need to cut off a limb.

 

Mom made me some tablets to stop the nausea and the diarrhea. She left them with the letter of encouragement from the captain of the Royal Guard (I'd never even met the guy, and it was none of his business whether or not I was dying). I put the tablets in one hand and flowers in the other. I took them both at the same time.

 

The medicine did help, a bit. I wasn't losing so much water, so I felt a little less miserable. Of course, that also meant that I wasn't losing any more buttercups.

 

I'm not sure how long it took for them to finally do the trick, but I remember that each day felt shorter and shorter. Eventually, Asriel stopped leaving the room (except to fetch more flowers and water). He sat on the floor by my bed, holding my gross blistery hand and telling me stories about knights and strange animals and old ladies with secrets.

 

I started to feel very sleepy; the pain was still there, but it felt duller now. My body had stopped fighting.

 

“I think this might be it,” I said through a mouthful of blood and drool. “I think it's finally working.”

 

“Is there anything you want me to do?”

 

I hesitated for a second. I wasn't thinking very clearly. “Pick me up and put me on your back,” I said after a moment.

 

Asriel's eyes widened in confusion. “Why?”

 

“Like when--” I gagged. “When we first met. You picked me up, remember?”

 

“Of course I remember,” he said. He gently rolled back the bedsheets. I winced at how emaciated my body had become. It reminded me of leaner times. He picked me up as though I were something delicate, like a music box or an old book. Somewhat clumsily, he shifted me over onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my chin on his shoulder.

 

“Give me a ride?” I asked.

 

He walked in small circles around our bedroom. There were so many rhythms there; his even strides, my own slowing heartbeat, the steady sound of his breath. I closed my eyes and smelled his sweater (like wool and detergent and baking).

 

I'd never been happier.

 

“I'm ready to go now,” I said. He stopped abruptly.

 

“Not yet,” he said. “The ride's not over.”

 

“It would look stupid if I just fell off your back,” I said.

 

He put me down on my bed, on top of the sheets. He held both my hands. His face was quite close to mine; I could feel his ears on my cheeks. His big dark eyes were welling up. He opened his perfect mouth, with his perfect fangs, as if he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent.

 

“Cheer up, dumbass,” I said through the white fog that was creeping into my line of vision.

 

Hot tears dripped down his nose onto my face. I raised my head to kiss his cheek, and tell him it was going to be okay and I was proud of him, so _proud_ of him for helping me and now he was going to be free and it would be wonderful and--

 

That was it. I don't even remember my head falling back to hit the pillow, even though I know it did.

 

I'm not sure about this, but I think I heard a wail echoing in my ears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end
> 
> (a lie)


	19. We Feel Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if it's sick to say that I almost enjoyed it.
> 
> I wonder if it's okay for me to say that despite everything, that closeness was the most secure I'd ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long! I had a pretty intense last couple months of college. Now I'm on break, so I can finally finish this story. The last chapter will be coming soon.  
> I just want to thank everybody who's kept on waiting all this time!

I'd killed my best friend. I was too weak to stop them. I just sat there and watched. _Why_ hadn't I told Mama and Papa? They could have fixed this! And now I was going to be alone, alone forever, because there was no way to replace Chara, no--

 

On the bed, with blood around its mouth, something shriveled and small and still warm, was that me? If that was me, where was _I_?

 

I'd lost Chara, I'd _killed Chara_ , why was I even sitting here, why was I-- I-- I'd won, I'd won, I'd _won_ , he'd followed the plan, we were going to break the Barrier, and-- The corpse on the bed was definitely me. I'd seen it in the mirror before, with blinking red eyes and freckled red cheeks. What was it doing down there?

 

My whole body was shuddering. The hardwood was pressing uncomfortably on my knees. I was still holding a small hand with long fingers, I'd never even gotten the chance to ask about those strange little claws, I-- I--

 

_**Something began resonating within the SOUL.** _

 

A wave of confusion washed over me when I looked at my hands. They were big and stumpy with pads on the palms (was I a monster now?) and they were shaking and there were tears streaming down my face (our face?).

 

I reached out an arm; it felt as though I was operating a machine. It wasn't mine. Clouds of grief kept rolling in over my thoughts.

 

“Are you there, Asriel?” I asked. He didn't answer.

 

I tried to stand, but our legs were shaky and our heart was beating painfully fast. How were we going to harvest the souls if we were like this? Were we going to be like this forever?

 

This wasn't what I thought being absorbed by Asriel would be like. I hadn't expected to be awake. I was... disappointed. I stared at the body on the bed. It looked _wrong_. It was so tiny and forlorn, it could never have belonged to me.

 

Almost unthinkingly, I lifted it up. It was almost weightless in my arms (was this how Asriel felt when he carried me, or did souls add extra weight?), and it felt like it was going to snap if I mishandled it. I cradled it like a newborn baby. I knew what I had to do.

 

“Let's go, Asriel,” I said to the weeping presence in my mind. “Let's go to the surface.”

 

With each step, our body became easier to control. I held the corpse to our chest. Blood stained the front of our green and yellow sweater (when had it stretched and torn like this?).

 

We walked down the hall together, me and Asriel and my limp, rapidly cooling body. Mom saw us by the staircase. I'll never forget the look on her face. Apprehension, a slight twist of the mouth, furrowing brows, a gasp escaping and tears boiling over and--

 

We went past her without saying a word.

 

It was a long, silent walk. Our body was still crying, still shuddering, still clutching the corpse for dear life.

 

Our feet sunk deep into the warm soil of the garden. We tripped a little bit over a bucket filled with tools. I reached down with one big, clumsy hand and pulled my gardening knife out of it, and tucked it into our pocket. The flowers brushed innocently against our legs.

 

“Thank you,” I said to them.

 

I can't describe the way the Barrier felt when we touched it; it was somewhere between static electricity and gelatin. Through the shimmering lines of gray and white, I could see our reflection; tall and twisted, grown forcefully, with red-rimmed weeping eyes and winding horns. I clutched the corpse to my chest. I took a step forward.

 

The sky was shockingly blue. I hadn't seen it in years (had I ever seen it at all?). I could feel our heart pounding against the inside of our chest. The sky was so _big_. It was smooth, unbroken, a sheet of blown glass, pure and bright and completely new. Tears were still dripping down our face, but we were smiling, I think.

 

I took another step. Then another. I knew what I had to do.

 

I remembered this place; it was near the foot of the mountain, just outside the town. We had to go through a field of flowers, and then cross the river and get to Main Street. I'd seen that cop who'd kicked me and Jim around eating at the McDonalds there, one time. I was certain he'd be there. He'd see us, and he'd go after us. He'd be the first soul. He'd be the first step towards freedom.

 

We plodded onward, silent and determined. The corpse in our arms was beginning to cool, but the weight of the knife in our pocket was reassuring.

 

Somebody saw us in the flower field. They dropped their camera and their notebook and ran like hell. I didn't bother to run after them; I didn't recognize them, and I didn't want my first soul to be some random stranger. I kept walking. This body felt slow and useless.

 

You know, I'd forgotten how fast people are when they hear screaming.

 

“What the hell is that!?”

 

“Is it holding a _kid_?”

 

“Somebody call 911!”

 

“Disgusting!”  
  


“Horrible!”

 

“A **D E M ON**.”

 

I hadn't really considered guns, you know. I'd thought of things in almost a fairy-tale kind of way: the people would come at us with swords and pitchforks and torches and shit like that. It turns out that people don't do that anymore. Now, they come with guns.

 

For some reason, I couldn't recognize anybody. I didn't know who deserved to die and who didn't. All I knew was that the noise was deafening, and I was being torn apart by it.

 

“We have to run,” said the voice in my head. As if on cue, something hot and heavy buried itself in our left arm. “They're killing us, Chara. We have to run!”

 

I shook my head and took a step forward. I drew my gardening knife from my pocket. It didn't matter who was who at this point. All that mattered was that I gather the souls before the body Asriel and I were sharing was destroyed. I lunged at one of my formless attackers; I felt the blade tear through fabric, I felt it touch flesh, I took a deep breath, and-- I stopped.

 

“Don't,” we said out loud. The faceless person stumbled backwards, off the blade of the knife. They clutched the shallow wound and fled towards the convenience store (why did I recognize that, of all things?).

 

“What are you doing?!” we asked, looking wildly from side to side. Gunshots continued to ring out from all directions. I could feel them, one by one, burrowing under our skin, between the folds of our muscles and veins.

 

I turned to another attacker, and smacked the semiautomatic from their hands. Before I could strike them, my muscles tensed, like a cord had pulled them back.

 

“I won't let you do this!” we said. “I won't let you dirty yourself!” Asriel shakily turned us around, hugged my corpse close to our chest, and ran.

 

The bullets kept flying. I'm not sure how many times we were hit. I know that my corpse had been struck at least once; it was bleeding from a place it shouldn't have been.

 

The barrier was cool and smooth, like a car window on a long trip.

 

The garden was bright and golden and full of secrets. The flowers tickled when we fell to our knees in the soil.

 

The King and Queen of all the monsters were waiting for us, together, with tight-drawn mouths and mournful eyes.

 

“I'm sorry,” we said.

 

That body, my body, Chara's body... It fell with a gentle thud, its head lolled to the side and its hair splayed out like a halo in the dirt.

 

“I tried,” we said.

 

That body, his body, the body that Asriel and me had lived together in so briefly... dissipated.

 

For a second, I saw it; a cloud of flowing dust, imploding and coating the buttercups.

 

It was quiet.

 

 


End file.
